[33 second intro] |
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{*Troutman-esque sample says "Liiiiiive my liiife"*} |
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[Murs] |
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Born March '78, Feco and Carmone the Mid-City L.A |
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Okay Liquor was on the corner |
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Basically raised on rap, found ways to adapt |
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To every new hood I moved to, so way before "Colors" came out |
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We knew the differences between red and blue |
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Back then, my whole crew all, played Pop Warner football |
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From tiny mites to pee-wees, we'd be tight |
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Until we moved to the Valley, neighborhoods was all white |
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Only blacks on the block, can't count amounts of times |
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Somebody got socked for callin me out my name |
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But I still came up on game where I first learned to slang herb |
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And arranged words into the form of rhymes |
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But, times got rough |
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Moms wasn't tryin to see me and my stepdad, throw fisticuffs |
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So we moved back, to the M-C, and that shit bent me |
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But it made my raps tighter, and so did my hustle |
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And after my first hustle I was brought back to reality |
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And reminded, respect didn't come, automatically |
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So I earned mine, learned my claim |
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Got some beadies for my stress and graffiti for my name |
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Ditchin school everyday just to kick it at the crib |
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Bein a bad-ass kid |
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But the older that you get the more you're watchin how you live |
[26 second interlude] |
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{*Troutman-esque sample says "Liiiiiive my liiife"*} |
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[Murs] |
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Now I claim a Legend, that's a lot to be Living up to |
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I dedicate my every word, to my niggas who know how I feel |
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When yo' momma say she givin up on you |
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My luck was like that twenty-two, CATCH |
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Cause what I wanted from life, and what I got didn't match |
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Lack of scratch got me itchin to hit licks |
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But now I watch the lil' homies and realize I'm too old for that shit |
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That be on my mind, when I'm on my way to the train |
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When you're livin in Oakland, with L.A. on the brain |
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Too much anger to be contained, so the rap's my only outlet |
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Feelin like the deck was stacked against me since the outset |
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Niggas from my hood lookin at me like "Yo shit ain't out yet~!?" |
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But only if they knew how much patience it takes |
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When you got a book full of headline stories, just waitin to break |
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But when we do interrupt your normal schedule of events |
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The shit will be so bomb, a threat to national defense |
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Too late, to mount the counter-assault, but thus far |
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I've focused four years of my life on infiltration of the Walkman |
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For domination of the asphault |
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Doin what the fuck I want, while these bitch niggas talk |
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.. Y'know, run your mouth all you want |
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Doin what the fuck I want, but while you bitch niggas talk I'll |
[22 second interlude] |
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{*Troutman-esque sample says "Liiiiiive my liiife"*} |
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[Murs] |
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I mean shit it's a nice world if I was to actually believe |
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Everything they tellin me, but I know better than that shit |
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So I'm out to get a little scratch and that Spice Girl, Melanie B |
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You see, no great expectations |
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Just out to enjoy this shit until my date of expiration |
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Hopin my ass will age like fine wine |
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Cause there's so much to do, and such little time |
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So I'll be damned if I waste my days, for minimum wage |
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As a slave, or have some professor that's overpaid |
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Control the way that I behave |
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Afraid of commitment homey, I think not |
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Cause I'm committed to these beadies and this music |
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Cause it's all that I got |
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Cancer and some answers to some questions posed to oneself |
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And recited in the hopes they felt by someone else |
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But this five dollar ring on my hand stamps out the reminder |
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You can't always have, everything that you want |
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Cause rejection hurt like a motherfucker nigga I won't front |
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Heart broke like my pockets and dreams |
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So now I'm on the hunt to see if it's possible |
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To fix three things at once, while I |
[16 second interlude] |
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{*Troutman-esque sample says "Liiiiiive my liiife"*} |
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[Beat by itself to the fade of the song] |