Fresh digs, pretty girls, and some bub
Then thrown face down in the mud,
Rap out the speakers no ear buds
Then rap sheets and beats by clubs,
Catchin' vibes groovin' with the crew
Then blue eyes get wrong way rubbed,
Havin' a blast or grabbin' grub
Then "Where's the gun, where's the drugs?"
I see you, I see you get judged
By the color of their scrubs.
They'd be lying if they told you
That they never assumed the color of your blood.
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