[...I think underground is whatever, your mood or your feelings might be at the time So long as it's the truth... truth... truth...] Verse One: I could tell the pimped-est story About street homicide, and make it sound gory Cause you know, shit be happenin everyday And then on the weekends twice as much shit comes into play So I better watch my back or I might get caught up, in a fuckin crack war So I use the back door, cause the front ain't safe Seven different brothers got stuck and I don't wanna be the eighth Don't make no sense Walkin through my own neighborhood I feel tense Don't wanna carry no gun Cause the cops be stoppin us, and pattin us down just for fun
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