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    Verse 1:
    I know a place where the trees don't grow
    Just another place where niggaz live low
    I know a place where life is fucked up
    Make a wrong move and your ass get stuck up
    Time ain't nothin but a frame of mind
    And life is like a mountain or a steep ass climb
    I've been lookin for a place to leave
    The only free place is inside of me
    So let's take a trip, and you don't need a grip
    But you better be equipped cause it might be some shit
    African-American, nothin but a nigga
    Had our fingers on the trigger, but I pulled mine quicker
    I know a place where there ain't no calm and
    You better stay away if you're soft like Charmin
    South Central, Los Angeles, Watts, and Compton
    A nigga on the west coast on his way to Harlem

    Verse 2:

    Now it's time to step into the light (Light)
    Put up your dukes, there's gonna be a fight (Fight)
    And when it's time to fight, you better fight right
    Cause if it don't fight right, out goes the light
    Take a close look at what I'm freakin on
    Niggaz think I'm tweekin, but I'm speakin on
    Subject matter, data
    Information that I gather
    Through my travels
    Cause the hardest of the hard, hit hardcore killer
    Can't stop the slug of a nine millimeter
    Everybody thinks they know, but they know not
    If they haven't caught a cap on the block *gunshot*
    So shine up your boots and pick up the pieces
    Grab a fresh pair of khakis with the sharp ass creases
    Ring the alarm, here comes the storm
    I got a firearm on my way to Harlem

    Verse 3:

    I know a place where the sun don't shine
    Everybody is a victim of neighborhood crime
    I know a place where niggaz walk the line
    One false step and they must do time
    Since I'm in the same boat
    I must stay afloat
    And sing every note
    From the quotes that they wrote
    So, I look into the past and walk the path of the greats
    So I wont make the same mistakes that sealed my ancestors fates
    If I had to be a slave I'd rather be in my grave
    If I get in how many lives could I save?
    One, two, three, a hundred, a thousand
    My heart is poundin, the devil keeps soundin
    But he don't want my money, he wants my soul
    So I reach like a tree, and like a weed I grow
    My stomach is full, but my mind is starvin
    Rollin in a g ride on my way to Harlem

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