| Lookin through a window, thinkin' of a mission
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| Hear gunshots, another homeboy missin
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| The streets, crazy as hell but what a brother know?
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| A drive-by in a black 6−4
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| Who did it and why? |
| Another gang cause they hate him
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| The person they killed, he wasn’t even gangbangin
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| Comin' from school, mindin his own alone
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| But it’s the homeboy’s brother, so I guess it’s on
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| 16 — dead, missin' half his face
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| His family screams and he dream of a better place
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| You’re either down or out
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| I’ma stay down and talk loud
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| Put on my khakis and still walk proud
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| It’s either do do or die or get done for nuthin'
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| I won’t run from a gun, nigga, shoot me some
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| I’ma die a? |
| full? |
| death, it’s ignorant still
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| But it’s ill cause sometimes people have to kill
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| You put your flags on, Locs on, claims the ???
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| And get your jack on, sometimes you get blown away
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| You wanna live in fear but it’s tragic
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| An innocent child in another closed casket
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| I’m thinkin' about my brother
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| Been thinkin' about my future
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| I got to get off the streets and work it out
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| And face reality…
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| A closed casket because he didn’t have no face
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| Lost in space and his brother has the only trace
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| Say, brethren, is you simply get a Uzi and blast?
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| Are you sure to get away, or does it matter to ask?
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| I know you feel kinda guilty cause they thought he was you
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| And everybody in the hood makes you wanna pursuit
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| The others brothers from the gang that you shot at first
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| And now you roll in limousines and your brother a hearse
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| I couldn’t doubt if it was me, I wouldn’t wanna do a murder
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| Yeah, I might slip just a lil' bit further
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| We livin' in a ghetto and the ghetto is a kettle
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| Sittin' on the furnace and it won’t let go
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| You feel guilty so you shoot back and you hit black
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| And they hit back, another black’s ???
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| Another mother in tears, another kid in the grave
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| The Lord gave us the freedom but till death we’re enslaved
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| I’m thinkin' about my brother
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| And thinkin' about my future
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| I got to get off the streets and work it out
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| And face reality
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| Cause I know one day I will see a vision
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| Of the other side, oh no no…
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| And what a mother, because you wanna gee, she face danger
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| Shootin' at the house and she just a stranger to a banger
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| The brother of the brother you shot
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| Now your brother was got, your boy, you’re ready to pop
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| At the park you look gee’d, mad, even notorious
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| You carry your rag, your reputation, it embroils
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| Yeah, you can murder and you won’t be phased
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| But when the death hits home to the death you a slave
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| Boy, your grave will take a Uzi and retaliate
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| Are you afraid of the fact that it might be bait?
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| Because I heard a lil' rumour on the L.A. streets
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| That tell the price on your head, can you face the G?
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| Your homeboys might help, but maybe they won’t
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| Maybe they can use dollars, are you gettin the point?
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| Cause it’s straight game and death’s no joke
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| You better get out of the fire or you smell the smoke
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| It’s no jokin', I became a G because I had to
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| (So the streets took control of you)
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| I’m a gangsta, a gangsta on a new L. P
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| A closed casket, a mother and the S.C.C |