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P. Diddy

Genres: Hip-Hop

Young G's Lyrics - P. Diddy

Uhh, check it out, uhh 

(I steps in where the Mo's and the hoes at baby) 

Fuck all that pretty shit 

Takin' it back to the gutter for you motherfuckers 

(Niggaz know the deal) 

Niggaz know who the Don is 

(Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one) 

Peep game, uhh, what, what 

 

Out of this world like Mars, when I spit these bars 

Come fuck with these stars up in luxury cars 

We built them radars to stay free from the cops 

Crucial choices to make like A-C or the drop 

 

Are we gonna stop? Shit man, never my squad go broke 

Your squad arti-choke, watch your circle vanish like cigar smoke 

Ain't no joke, when your ones don't show 

Nigga I know, might say "Been there done that" like Dre 

 

Through hard work I earn the vault 

Promise God to never look back or I turn to salt 

Had nice watches, nice cars, nice bitches and rings 

Guess it's safe to say a nigga like me got nice things 

 

Can't relate to motherfuckers, who ain't go no cake 

When you all fucked up and can't get no break 

When your fake ass friends, don't help you out when you need it 

Be on some real bullshit, politely tell you to beat it 

 

Fuck that, get your own nigga, don't ask me for shit 

That's what I did, now they all askin' for hits 

Nigga, it's on for the simple fact I let it be known 

We still fly but separately 'cause now I charter my own 

 

Propellers, good fellas leave all them playa haters jealous 

Billboard charts should tell us, they can't touch us 

Why niggaz bring the ruckus? 

Because release day is bigger than Mandala's, motherfuckers 

 

Just some ghetto boys 

Livin' in these ghetto streets, these ghetto streets 

And everyday they gotta fight to stay alive 

It's just reality, yeah 

 

Yeah, make you a deal, check 

These here's the dog years and motherfuckers don't shed 

I try to bring you life but motherfuckers want dead 

So I travel with the babble, with the chrome, with the lead 

'Cause when it's on then it's on, the shots flowin' through your head 

 

I been rich, I been poor, I saved and blown bread 

Some say I been here before because of the way I zone 

Some said, Jigga zone is like the fallin' of Rome 

Reoccurring, that he thinks like that 'cause he's observing 

 

Won't be known until I'm gone and niggaz study my bones 

Mentally been many places, but I'm Brooklyn's own 

In the physical, one seems, like a lost body 

In fact my thoughts don't differ much from that of God body 

 

But it's the odd shottie that got cats, likening me 

To the mob John Gotti rap dudes bitin' me 'cause 

I got it locked like the late Bob Marley 

Pardon me y'all, the great Bob Marley 

 

Solemnly we mourn, all the rappers that's gone 

Niggaz that got killed in the field and all the babies born 

Know they ain't fully prepared for this new world order 

So I keep it ghetto like sunflower seeds and quarter waters 

 

You walk 'em through it, you know, talk 'em through it 

Know these beads is more than music whenever I talk to it 

Destined for greatness and y'all knew this when I doubled the pie 

Had a shorty and a girl who'd comin' out of BWI 

 

I hated algebra but I loved to multiply 

And I told my nigga Big I'd be multi before I die 

It's gonna happen whether rappin' or clappin' have it your way 

'Cause if that's my dough you're trappin', I'm clappin' your way 

 

Just some ghetto boys 

Livin' in these ghetto streets 

And everyday they gotta fight to stay alive 

(Stay alive) 

It's just reality, yeah 

(Oh, reality) 

 

Damn it feel good to see people up on it 

Flipped two keys in two weeks and didn't flaunt it 

My brain is haunted with mean dreams 

GS's with BB's on it, supreme schemes to get richer 

Than Richie, quickly, niggaz wanna hit me 

If they get me, dress my body in linen by Armani, check it 

 

My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat 

High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit 

In my circumference, mad bitches with mad lucci 

Bulletproof vests under they coochie 

Spittin' my Uzi, don't lose me 

 

My trigga niggaz represent, drivin' dirty in J-30's gettin' bent 

And to my hit hoes, my murder mommies 

I be smokin' trees in Belize when they find me 

While you still killin' niggaz with punany, like heiny 

 

And Cyrus up in Cypress fuck you raw you on the floor with the virus 

While I just, slang coke, smoke pounds to choke 

Got lawyers watchin' lawyers so I won't go broke, now check it 

 

Them country niggaz call me Frank White 

I'm squirtin' off in my loft of course I know my shit's tight 

Sunrise open my eyes no surprise 

Got my shorty flyin' in with keys taped to her thighs 

 

With all the utensils, who hang my China thing 

She half black half oriental 86 she got me rental 

The situation ain't accidental 

What? From a, from a young G's perspective 

 

Just some ghetto boys 

Livin' in these ghetto streets 

And everyday they gotta fight to stay alive 

(To fight) 

It's just reality 

(It's just reality) 

 

Just some ghetto boys 

Livin' in these ghetto streets 

And everyday they gotta fight to stay alive 

(To stay alive) 

It's just reality 

Writer: , , , , , , ,

Copyright: Atv Music Publishing Llc, Warner, Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony

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