[Freeway]
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Yeah...for my street niggas
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[Chorus - girl singing (Oschino)]
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The sun never shines in the ghetto
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It always rains in the hood
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Heavy metals ring in the ghetto
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Everybody moves 'caine in the hood (everybody move them things)
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This for my niggas who stay in the ghetto (to my niggas stay in the ghetto)
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It's lots of shine in the ghetto
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Too many haters in the hood (too hard, niggas be hatin)
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Gotta watch what you doin
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The ghetto only cop black shine in the hood (Freeway, Young Gunz)
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This for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto (Oschino)
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[Verse One: Oschino]
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Yo we gotta, hollow the gat, bottle the smack
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When the cops pull up we gotta swallow the crack
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All my niggas did time like Geronimo Prep
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See the Benz like damn, what model is that
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Oschino, the nigga who was locked in a cage
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Niggas clockin my style like flavor flave
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Fuck gettin the Source Award, or gettin Five Mics
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I'm happy just gettin my daughter a pink bike
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A roof over her head and some Barbie skates
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It's plenty of nights man, I hardly ate
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I'm from where the summers dangerous, the winters is cold
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And bitches pop Van X's like birth control
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I got bitches on death row, stuck with a cell number
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So close to Jesus they got his cell number
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The ghetto is trife, this is my life
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How many rappers you know been down for murder twice?
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[Verse Two: Neef]
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Yo what up wit ch'all niggas
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What it look like?
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Throw it in the pot, see if the shit cook right
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We can get it down, see if it bubble white or brown
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Take it to the town and break my youngin's down
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It's doin good, business is lookin fine
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Get 'em for 20, but maybe 29
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Youngin out on his grind, youngin poppin 'em nine's
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I'm a juvenile delinquent, youngin was doin time
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Cause Judge Reynold's left it up to my mom (what else?)
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And I was thinkin like, damn ain't that crazy?
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But mom duke's can't live without her baaaby
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I'm back home, thrity eight strong, out on my own
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Thinkin, get it wit chrome
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Fuck makin them songs, but my mind right now
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And this rap shit be my grind right now (now...now...)
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[Chorus: girl singing]
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The sun never shines in the ghetto
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It always rains in the hood
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Heavy metals ring in the ghetto
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Everybody moves Cain in the hood
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This for my niggas who stay in the ghetto
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It's lots of shine in the ghetto
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Too many haters in the hood
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Gotta watch what you doin
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The ghetto only cop black shine in the hood
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This for my niggas who thug like street lights in the ghetto
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[Verse Three: Young Chris]
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You wanna shit on? I'm on your boy like the narc's on 'em
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You ever heard a nigga's lawyer scared to talk for him?
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Creep in the dark on him, the led bark on him
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I'm on his head til the Fed's spread chalk for him
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That's how we do it dawg, these the last days
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Yeah I had my bad days, I been through it ch'all
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But I grew back (grew back)
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Got my groove back (groove back)
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That's how we do in trainin, cockin them two's back
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Same dudes namin', givin up news
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Gettin up on the stand, endin up on the news
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It's fucked up what that pressure'll do
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And you don't wanna fuck up when they questionin you
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Lecturin you, tryin to get shit up outta you
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Crucial beatdowns til the bitch come up outta you
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Cris come up outta you, dough that ain't right to do
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Put that dough and get your body viewed
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[Verse Four: Freeway]
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Let me get five for twenty, or seven for thrity
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That shit that you hear in the ghetto
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They don't care in the hood
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Cop four twenties and seven thirties
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Then niggas disappear from the ghetto
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Get snatched from the hood
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Feds grab 'em, and some get put in the dirt
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Some live in grime, good with the work
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Stick up kids get hit with the nine
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But the funeral parlor good with embalming fluid
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Good with the hearst
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Some niggas don't even grind
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But still make a stack every other night, good with the dice
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So it don't even matter, get hungry in the hood
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Miss Low is sharp with the platters, good with the rice
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And her daughter's just like her
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Shootouts, they stash my guns, and I got away good with the knifes
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The end of the nights, stash my ones
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Cause I |