I don't understand how this game made us strangers, look
Four cuban links on my neck, trap out the hood
From hollywood to the hood
Smoke ? you know it taste good
Hell, ever since i was a little nigga havin' fantasies
When all i see are safe places, upper middle class families,
And when the smoke clears don’t you dare ask who could
If theres a time that in the hood
Thing you have upper "hand" against me, bro
Hollow tip dum-dums eat flesh like piranhas though
When all the upper middle class families are ten percent,
Hopped on the pulpit and told them how i was truly blessed
The white working class is the majority, the upper class,
We fight with these rings with the intention to ever last
Guess who has the upper hand when its time to feast
I did a little stint, shout out to the south east
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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