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A motherfucker sitting on fat Who done came up in the hood but he can't come back Fuck that, I remain in the street game frame on a mission to maintian me and take aim In position to let my opposition know my life cause off in these streets I keep journal it journal real but what's right? Surviving, sitting on a key doing business on a beeper I'm sinking in this motherfucker deeper Fear the reaper that no man born or woman harm me fuck being a nigga in your army; though I'm a killer Enter the ghetto so that journal you can see what I mean when I say I love this cause it love me Let it be, stop looking at this motherfucker strange and talking 'bout a motherfucking change This is for my thug niggaz [chorus x6] This is for my homies and my thug niggaz (uuuuugh) [verse 2 (Master P)] 'Face, imagine us working at McDonald's and me and you selling fucking tapes in the Bahamas Gold slug, a car full of thug niggaz twenty inch wheels candy paint so we drug dealers No Limit soldiers to the fullest see I was raised
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