| I know you can feel the magic baby
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| Turn the motherfuckin lights down
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| Esco whuttup? |
| (Whuttup homey)
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| I mean. |
| it’s what you expected ain’t it?
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| Let’s go… uh, uh, uh, uh, uh Turn the music up and the headphones
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| uh, Yea, that’s perfect (Yea, right)
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| Uh, we gots to take and make a nigga wait on this motherfucker
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| (hahaha!) Make niggaz mad and shit like.
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| Niggaz usually start rappin’after 4-bars, nigga go in Start dancin’in this motherfucker
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| Yea, (Yea) niggaz come outta nowhere
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| I feel like a Black Republican, money I got comin’in
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| Can’t turn my back on the hood, I got love for them
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| Can’t clean my act up for good, too much thug in 'em
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| Probably in the back of the hood, I’m like «Fuck it then»
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| Huddlin’over the oven, we was like brothers then (What?)
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| Though you was nothin’other than a son of my mother’s friend
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| We had governin', who would of thought the love would end
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| Like ice cold album, all good things
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| Neva thought we sing the same song that all hood sang
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| Thought it was all wood-grain, all good brain
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| You wouldn’t bicker like the other fools talk good game
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| Neva imagine all the disasters that one could reign
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| Could bring!, should bling, the game, and I could
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| It’s kill or be killed, how could I refrain?
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| And foreva be in debt, that’s neva a good thing
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| To the pressure for success can put a good strain
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| On a friend you call best, and yes it could bring
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| Out the worst in every person, even the good’s insane
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| Though we rehearsed, it’s just ain’t the same
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| When you put in the game at age sixteen
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| Then you mix things: like cars, jewelry, and miss things
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| Jealousy, ego, and pride, and this brings
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| It all to a head like coin, cha-ching
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| The rule of evil strikes again, this could sting
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| Now the team got beef between the Post and the Point
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| This puts the ring in jeopardy — until Liberty
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| I feel like a black militant takin’over the government
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| Can’t turn my back on the hood, too much love for them
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| Can’t clean my act up for good, too much thug in 'em
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| Probably in up back in the hood, I’m like, «fuck it then»
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| I’m back in the hood, they like, «Hey Nas"(Uh)
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| Blowin’on purp', reflectin’on they lives
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| Couple of fat cats, couple of A.I.'s
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| Dreamin’of fly shit instead of them gray skies
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| Gray 5's, hate guys wishin’our reign dies
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| Pitch, sling pies, and niggaz they sing, «why»?
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| Guess they ain’t strong enough to handle their jail time
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| Weak minds, keep tryin', follow the street signs
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| I’m standin’on the roof of my building
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| I’m feelin'- the whirlwind of beef, I inhale it Just like an acrobat ready to hurl myself though the hoops of fire
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| Sippin'80 proof, bulletproof under my attire
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| Could it be the forces of darkness, against hood angels of good
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| That forms street politics — makes a sweet honest kid
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| Turn illegal for commerce — to get his feet out of them Converse
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| That’s my word |