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E.s.g. - Anticipation lyrics
[Chorus:]
 R.I.P. to my niggas that's dead and gone
 Standin here blowed I dedicate this song
 R.I.P. to my niggas that's dead and gone
 Standin here blowed I dedicate this song
 To my niggas in the grave and my niggas in the pen
 Much love for you fools, see you when I get in
 To my niggas in the grave and my niggas in the pen
 Much love for you fools, see you when I get in
 Come follow me now, and let me kick that old school
 Flow
 All my Gs who got popped or else dropped by a.44
 Tryna make ends, roll in Benz and stay tight
 Get high with the crew, dick one or two down tonight
 And stay true to the game, make yo cash the dash
 But 5-0s and jackers all over yo ass
 So niggas stay woke, don't ever sleep when you creep
 Cuz nowadays they pack AKs and shit's gettin deep
 Bustin bustin biggedy bustas keep yo pockets on fat
 And to my homies who rest, every night I look back
 And say "Damn, now why did my niggas have to die?"
 To ease the pain I don't cry, I fire that potent fry
 And reminisce my life, I mean the whole 20 years
 Cuz over the days, crime has paid for many of my peers
 Some died from car wrecks, and Tecs to the necks
 I know my mother anticipate - now will her son be next?
[Chorus]
 Funky funerals, sixty cars with lights and one cop
 Rollin slow behind a hearse block to blockE.s.g. - Anticipation - http://motolyrics.com/esg/anticipation-lyrics.html
 And uh, I couldn't make it, I was feelin worse
 To show my love for cuz, I pour some sip to the curse
 We had tight times, we even had lose times
 Sharin a brew, smokin a few, flashin up the deuce sign
 Rollin thick as a bitch, with my whole fuckin click
 Yep, cut for one another, down to take a nigga's shit
 Crankin cars, nothing barred, the shit stayed tight
 Mobbin forty ounce, slobbin nearly every night
 Much goes to those, I'm givin it up, I mean my props
 From Charlie Brown to Shawn Miles and to my steppops
 I got nothing for love and it's gettin strong
 I keep my head up even when the shit's goin wrong
 And ain't no use to me puttin out my fry
 Sometimes I anticipate - now will I be the next to die?
[Chorus]
 And now it's 93, and shit's still illegal
 So I gave in my Tec for a.44 Desert Eagle
 Still got memories of my homies in the past
 So I look high and ask the Lord if I last
 And if not, when I drop six feet deep
 Put a forty in my lap and in my mouth a swisher sweet
 And let the dead rest, and then close my eyes
 And if my niggas ain't there, then I just might rise
 And bust a couple of caps the spirits from hell
 See, a nigga might be dead but I got dope to sell
 So niggas don't forget for y'all to bring the fry
 Cuz everyone'll cry and say "Damn - this nigga had to
 Die"













