| Yes
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| Yes
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| My lil shortys gonna be a thug
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| Father like son, like son like dad
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| My family all into makin this cash
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| Shorty’s gonna be a thug
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| Like father, like son, like son, like dad
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| My family’s all into makin this cash
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| My lil, shortys gonna be a thug
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| Like father, like son, like son, like dad
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| My family’s all into makin this cash
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| Look in yo eyes
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| An I see, the reflection of me
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| My little guy
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| Thank the Lord for blessin me wit a seed
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| Before he died
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| My father taught these lessons to me
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| An before I die, I share the same lessons that he was stressin to me
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| Nigga it’s in yo blood, you gone be a thug
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| No matter the cause
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| Niggas born to floss, an be the boss
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| That’s how he was taught
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| I raised you in the North
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| Away from the hood where, times are hard
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| But as soon as the, grind get hard
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| You put yo time in God
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| It’s in our blood
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| Thuggin
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| Til the days of my death
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| My last breath taken by the ATF like, David Koresh
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| My steps of life
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| My last testimony, God bless my wife
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| My lil son gone be set for life, always dressed up nice
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| And smokin Kryponite
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| Might grow up an rip the mic
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| Or slang some chickens like his great grandpappy
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| Whatever makes the man happy
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| Grands snappy
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| But Lord forbid, he try to do the same shit that his pappy did
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| Nigga, end up in some khaki shit
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| Handcuffed, in back of the bus wit a gang of other niggas fucked up
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| Then shipped up, shit greed
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| Shit get deep
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| Niggas bleed
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| Information juss to get free
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| That’s why you never see no busta niggas hangin wit me
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| Be a loner
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| If you ain’t got that fuckin Dragon tattoo on ya
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| Knock a nigga on his ass, so fast the class makes have to use amonia
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| To wake him up
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| Nurse, pick him up
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| An take him up
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| Hit the dice game in the alley way
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| Yo nigga break 'em up
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| Chorus *(Yukmouth)*
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| Look in yo eyes
|
| An I see, a reflection of me
|
| My little guy
|
| Thank the Lord for blessin me wit a seed
|
| Before he died
|
| My father taught these lessons to me
|
| An before I die, I share the same lessons that he was stressin to me
|
| It’s in yo blood, you gone be a thug
|
| No matter the cost
|
| Born to floss, an to be the boss
|
| That’s how he was taught
|
| I raised you in the North
|
| Away from the hood where, times are hard
|
| But as soon as the, grind get hard
|
| You put yo time in God
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| It’s in our blood
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| And send a letter to my killa
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| Whoever it my be
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| I know that death is callin, I can hear it pagin me
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| Chasin me
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| (ch-ch… haha)
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| Like Jason be
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| But ain’t no breakin me
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| Or takin the safe from me
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| Not even a fuckin 8 from me
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| Be ready to catch a thirty-eight to the chest straight from me
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| Even if they wasted me
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| My son will be replacin me
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| On the street makin g’s
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| Like his poppy was
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| Smokin chronic budded
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| Sellin drugs like his poppy does
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| See his poppy was a, mutha fuckin soldier
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| Hittin figure eights up in Nova
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| Always smokin doja
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| Wit a pocket full of quarters
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| Went from bein a small timer, to highroller
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| To the block controller
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| Set up shop, an got it locked wit all the rocks an powdered cola
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| Now the cowards know the time
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| Taught you to grind before your time
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| I taught you how to hold a 9
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| Taught you how to stay sharper than a poker prime
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| Nigga focus yo mind, on the money
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| Fuck a big behind
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| An keep a click of down ass niggas, an then you’ll be fine
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| These are the rules
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| Nigga choose to utilize or loose
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| Pay yo dues
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| If I die juss get my face tattooed
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| Up on yo shoulder, or right over your heart
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| Cuz, when it get dark
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| That’s when this shit starts, an daddy didn’t raise no marks! |