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I had so many plans, cause I got plenty fans |
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I thought that I was never gonna be alone to spend these grands |
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But it seems that every girl that I dated somehow hated the way I loved |
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And I made it with so many, now the ones that are with it, its not any; they all ran |
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I thought that I was gonna be Hugh Hef, 6 women to go 2-step but not one of my crews left |
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Kids are growing up and they got lives now nobody arrives now |
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Used to be married but narcissism let my bride down |
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I used to be a playa, I used to be afraid of bein' alone |
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But they all eventually said "I'll see ya lata'"; much lata' |
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Sittin' in this plush lair must say I'm stuck in a rut |
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I guess not enough prayer |
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Cause ain't nobody came back, I bust the same raps |
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But ain't no dame pack wish I could change that |
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They say that I'm extra I'm messed up and I murk the deals |
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That I have with them in the past and I miss 'em and it hurts for real |
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[Hook: Courtney Kuhnz] |
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See the man with the broken heart (He's just right over there) |
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All alone he stands so lonely in this world so cold. |
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He's been hopeless from the start (He feels like no one cares) |
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Born alone he'll die so lonely: saddest story ever told |
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[Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung] |
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Sooner or later rumors gonna tear me up in pieces |
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And he's just bad luck everywhere I go I'm sick of this steepness |
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More money more problems, no money problems gettin' worse |
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He don't have to get bloody but he didn't have to get hurt |
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Fuck I'm so tired of all this cryin' it don't work |
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Its affectin' my work, not even carin' about my work |
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Thin line between love and raps, Strange got the fans comin' back |
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Bad plus bad run in packs, startin' to think is a curse |
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I can't you do it without you nigga' |
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Can't be done without me nigga' |
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Well, yes it can, wait, please don't do it without me nigga' |
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Strange move on without these lyrics, makin' it to wear these fans can hear it |
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I'mma have to get done I'm near it, Brotha Lynch Hung you can't be serious |
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I'm starin' at these pills, in the back of the Cadillac, and matta' fact |
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I got it I grip my steel, I'm always on this suicide thinkin' that's how I feel |
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I figure if I get rid of these pills nobody would care if I'm killed |
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My label's on the road, me just sittin' at home, see |
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Spit in that chrome, me gettin' that gold |
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We get that call and then we run in they house, gun up in they mouth |
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Just know this Madesicc Strange, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout |
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[Hook] |
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[Outro] |