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    Yo yo Gu-rizzi, yo
    Yo whassup son?
    Yo man, youknowhatImean? I need this money man
    Get up out in these, in these streets man
    Yo, so what's the deal God?
    I'm sayin, what you need though?
    Yo let me have like, two or three, three G's man
    I'm sayin, I'm sayin son man
    You know what happened last time though
    I gotta do what I gotta do man, I gotta eat man
    Whassup man? Oh your baby momma stressin you? ...

    Way past the days of the deuce me and you stays a crew
    Only a few percent knew what me and you went through
    We've been sent to dominate, these corny come-lates
    and set this crooked rap shit straight from Crenshaw to Castlegate
    Like Pete and CL, I reminisce over days
    from the streets of Boston to New York and all the ways
    for certain niggaz to blow up, and crime paid
    But my praise goes to the most high
    Cause some nights I got so wild yo, I almost died
    Some stuff I got into, really scarred my mental
    Pops wasn't tryin to hear it, cause of what he been through
    Still, like my nigga Havoc said, sometimes you gotta
    hit your crew off, so they can make some bread
    Cause no matter the weather, niggaz be needin cheddar
    And things in this world are more fucked up than ever
    So let's make this bond to keep this hip-hop strong
    You a man Baby Pop you know right from wrong
    So stay out of trouble, and that goes for me too
    That's what we need to do, that's my advice to you...

    You remember what happened last time, when you got knocked
    Doin your thing, sewin shit up on the block
    You need to stop, fore you get caught again
    or you get shot and I lose another friend

    "Any man with the plan is precise with his life"

    "Think twice"

    My advice to you, cut down on champagne and booze
    For a nigga like me, most time that shit's bad news
    It's like lightin a fuse whether it's sneakers or shoes
    cause somebody always wanna step up to start a feud
    It's like Set-tin It Off but not the movie
    Plus let's get some real women forget floozies and the groupies
    Cause they spell mad problems from Watts to Harlem
    And the bullshit won't stop long as the world's revolvin
    And I recall when niggaz knew my pops had clout
    But they didn't know my sorry ass was gettin kicked out
    And they was seein if I wanted to come bubble with them
    And make my ends triple and double with them
    And get in trouble with them, now memories of them
    I wear em in my heart like a emblem
    I doubt we'd ever be bigtime sellin dope coke or dust
    It's killin us, let's take our people and make a exodus
    Annhilation, inhilation through the lungs
    or extermination, by the use of dirty guns
    Triple beam dreams and drug schemes of mad cream
    could be a sad scene when you go to that extreme

    "Any man with the plan is precise with his life"

    "Think twice"

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