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(sung) |
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Please lift us up where we belong |
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All this time we're holdin on |
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Lift us up where we belong |
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Cuz life takes over like a spawn |
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(Dom Pachino) |
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Mastermind, holdin through crimes |
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Seen my fams Hill and Pah lowered in the ground |
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Hold my crown, hold my nine |
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Me and mama down ya shine, waited too long |
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The year is mine, the time is now |
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What, where, and how, ain't a question |
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Life's a lesson, filled with choices - trust and depression |
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Smokin 'ja and lime green shit, to ease my tension |
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My rap sheet is long as soldier's gun possession |
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Not to mention, spittin in mics; the kid's profession |
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Movin crowds give my dick the, hardest erection |
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Clouds of smoke, burners and shit, that's for protection |
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When no vest can save, when it's time for ya grave |
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All the, dirt that I did, all the pain that I gave |
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All the whylin out I did when my earth said 'behave' |
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All them, niggaz I stuck on my hungry-ass days |
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All them, drugs that I slung with intent to get paid |
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was for the better things in life - somethin I felt I deserved |
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Nobody else gon' feed me, I'd be kicked to the curb |
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Buy my mom a castle and land deep in the suburb' |
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She a strong and intelligent woman, that's how she get served |
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But depended on the next man isn't part of my plan |
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Try an sell me a dream, put some CREAM in my hand |
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Wanna garuntee me numbers on your weekly soundscan |
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Try an, smile in my face while you shakin my hand |
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Regardin business and shit, but wanna shit on my man |
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Terror is here, Terrorist the powerful man |
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I let the land sing the blues with a guitar in her hand... |
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(sung) |
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...all this time we're holdin on |
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Lift us up where we belong |
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Cuz life takes over like a spawn |
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(9th Prince) |
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Yo, yo, aiyyo, aiyyo |
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My mind flashed back to memory lane |
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I felt adrenaline rush through my veins |
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Blood stain, +Major Payne+ like Damon Wayans |
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PR Terrorist leg got hit |
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It ricocheted and 4th Disciple arm had split |
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I ran like the Bionic Man, western stance |
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General Y's dillinger, just jammed in his hand |
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Bullets on the loose, shells rip through my feathered goose |
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We at war now, like Desert Storm troops |
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Somehow I escaped like Attica inmates |
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Dodgin jakes, pushin weight on Shaolin and upstate |
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Mentally slave - for righteousness I crave |
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I plan to be wise and refuse to dig my own grave |
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Back in the days, of Adam and Eve |
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I was in the Garden of Eden rollin trees from leaves |
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Nowadays niggaz be dying from a virus called Stress Disease |
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In New York, everybody screamin they Bloods and Darks |
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Remember thugs that'd love to send me straight to the morgue |
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Sometimes I feel like my life is going in circles |
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Record labels be tryna jerk you |
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Cross my line I'll try to murder you |
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Guilliani got thugs on a curfew - it's real, like TMF |
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Everybody grab they steel, we build at will |
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And save the children for real, for real... |
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(Islord talking) |
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Aiyyo, it's like |
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I remember my old earth G.. |
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It used to be - me, her and my grand earth in the bed |
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KnowhatI'mean? One room apartment type joint |
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Roaches all in ya shit... yaknow |
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It's like I'ma flash back right now |
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Me and my physical.. I love that nigga |
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We was co-defendants... |
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Yo, my mind flashes back to '82 when I was 7 |
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Short, light-skinned, curly-head, startin trouble |
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Young God, in the schoolyard |
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Never kept my laces tied, shirt tucked inside |
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Never abided by the rules that I had to |
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Me and my physical was on some - quick to snatch the Cash Rule |
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From a flashy, analog nigga in the projects |
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Know Latrenze pour weight outta state |
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And front, with they big boys in the summertime |
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Cuz we was on some, crimetime all year 'round |
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Tacklin pockets, tearin chains offa necks |
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Straight up disrespectful ways and actions |
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Towards any man or female - cuz the life that I live and tell |
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Is identical compared to no one |
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And I'll be damned if I have to show one... |
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(sung) |
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Please lift us up where we belong |
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All this time we're holdin on |
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Lift us up where we belong |
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Until the Army drops the bomb... |