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good evening yall |
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im a tell yall a story |
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so I was walking around henhay park, right |
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sun was goin down, we gettin off of work late |
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and I run into this, this man, this old man, and he tells me |
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for my seeds well being, I declare war |
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hacienda louicita, I declare war |
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for the last five hundred years |
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been in a war to make sure that we never see five hundred more |
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I won't rest till my story been told |
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I won't rest till my story been told |
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come on |
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I won't rest till my story been told |
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what |
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I won't rest till my story been told |
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yo |
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the wicked try to justify to keep what they stole |
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it eats at their souls, guess they reap what they sow |
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competing with your brother for the love of the dough |
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but we know we own nothing so we claim it for show |
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who got the guns and the gold, who left us out in the cold |
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white wilderness I travel while im searching my own |
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its why I'm flippin a poem like it was written in stone |
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it's for the children seeking answers to the questions at home |
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this ain't no neo soul even though its subtle and slow |
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the political is personal you suckas should know |
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its why my body wont rest until my story been told |
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I wont rest until my stories have been told |
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now |
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I wrote the scroll flipped the script broke the mold |
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but my people ain't free we just out on parole |
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my collection of records is for my son when he's grown |
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he'll appreciate the now when we call it the old |
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these Americans forgettin' that they live on a globe |
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the same planet as those left abandoned it droves |
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kept in bondage by the chain of a creditors loan |
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their money is like a bboy stance, it stays froze |
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I prose what the world decomposes to show |
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the conditions that's depicted up in "Hustle and Flow" |
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from drafted to casket these soldiers come home |
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my craft spit the magic off the top of the dome |
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I'm walkin alone, often get exhausted and blown |
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only six feet separate the coffin and throne |
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you cavemen insist on callin' sisters a ho |
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you ain't equipped to paint a picture of the city I roam |
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around in circles on the back of metropolitan joe |
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rejectin' all your dogma keeps my karma in tow |
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provolone chasin pipe dream and people to blow |
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the created could never pay the creator what they owe |
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working 'til the bone cracks over timezones |
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push the pen to the paper nose to the grindstone |
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I won't rest until my story been told |
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I won't rest until my stories have been told |
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now |
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I wrote the scroll flipped the script broke the mold |
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one chapter closed but another unfolds |
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one chapter closed but another unfolds |
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said one chapter closed, the other unfolds |
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I want to say to the fam, friends, supporters worldwide, |
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if you identify with the hustle in this struggle, |
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then guess what, your down with us |