| Aiyo, Keith Murray, nigga, pass the muthafucking weed, nigga
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| (Nah, you got that shit, nigga, stop playing)
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| You know how I do when I come in the muthafucking building, man
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| Redman, nigga
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| «Everybody just scream!»
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| Call your moms on the phone, it’s the jam
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| I got jet ski’s that ride over land
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| Since a young buck had fire in my hands
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| When I was bumping «Roxanne, Roxanne»
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| I got gin and an O.J.
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| Rock 'friday' to 'next friday' like O’Shea
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| Hit the west coast, six four on tray
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| Doctor Bombay, sick flow all day
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| I don’t play fair, niggas can’t see me
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| That’s why I make it do what it do, baby, yeah
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| You want some, yeah, niggas hit the floor
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| When I kick in the door, wave in the four four
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| For sure, Uncle Snoop, where’s the coupe?
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| Cuz I keep a hoe fighting like New York and Hoopz
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| Strap up your boots, move around
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| Pick it up like engine number nine
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| It’s mine, homey, Tech, what’s good?
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| And it ain’t hard to tell how I rep my hood
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| You a beast like me, rep your hood
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| Sign the check when I mic check, one-two
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| West Coast niggas love getting it started
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| Down South niggas love getting it started
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| East Coast niggas love getting it started
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| But when we in the house shit get retarded
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| When we in the house shit get retarded
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| When we in the house shit get retarded
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| We came to finish what ya’ll done started
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| «Everybody just scream!»
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| Aiyo, fuck your prognosis on who’s the dopest
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| You get skate like super chronic holitosis
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| If you looking for beef, you know you gon' get it
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| Got ya’ll niggas yellin' 'callin' the cops, get the paramedics'
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| Keith Murray, Method Man, Redman
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| Hip hop got Barack in his B-Boy stance
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| Like a nigga with no legs, you don’t stand a chance
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| Against the Wu-Tang, Def Squad, L.O.D. |
| wardance
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| One glance, watch Keith Murray hop out
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| In a hurry, cold like a McFlurry
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| No Mickey D’s, show me the money like Jerry Maguire
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| L.O.D. |
| for hire, I’m ready
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| I rep Strong Island, bums get rushed
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| I pack house like Biggie in Notorious
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| We warriors, who the fuck are you?
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| I pop an E and the gun go Pikachu
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| Niggas know how deep the crew, get at me
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| I’m nasty, but I went from ashy to classy
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| Got badunkadunks waving all at me
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| Cuz I be, doing my thing and making everybody scream
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| Yo, Brick City, Staten, Long Island, we back
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| More violent on the track, black talent and a gat
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| Bomb shit, like a nigga wilding in Iraq
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| See the truth of the fact, niggas lying in they raps
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| Me? |
| I’m a diamond in the rough in the cut
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| Like paroxide, got mine frying in the Dutch
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| Forget about your top 5, try and top mines
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| Take shine like I got mine ironing your guts
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| You know I keep it fired up, fire in the hole
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| To the game, old and tired, I be tired when I’m old
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| I’m trying to keep it hot like the pile up in the stove
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| While these rappers losing power putting powder in they nose
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| Meth, Keith Murray and Redman, yo
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| Fuck you and your mama on a headband, hoe
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| You can call the kid a modern day Van Gogh
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| Take the art to a place where the fake can’t go
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| My chain and my pants hang low
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| Got my own namebrand, I’m the man made, bro
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| Cash in advance, I’mma blow up with the dough
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| Whoa ho ho, don’t let me like slow up with flow |