| It’s a motherfuckin shame
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| Everytime I look at the goddamn news, or read a motherfuckin
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| Paper, some motherfuckin bitch or nigga tryin to dis gangsta rap
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| But um, check this shit out
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| Gangsta rap is here to motherfuckin stay
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| All you hoes and bitches out there tryin to put a bag on this
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| Shit, this shit is here to motherfuckin stay
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| Bailin up outta the cut, I’m breakin em off for this 95 G thang
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| Jumpin up outta that Mustang, gonna let these nuts hang
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| Cannibalistic flow snatchin your neck off
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| Grabin a fuckin tech, lettin this bit takin your chest off
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| Morgify a nigga with the quickness, pissin on brain sites
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| Magnify your heart with this beam, and stomp it like a street light
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| We blow motherfuckas, kickin up dust, droppin that bomb shit
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| Glock cocked on your block, ready to rock it all time
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| Bitch I sack, SCC be that click, Treach and Hav
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| Felony, Prod, H-A-V the OC, you can’t see me
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| Pump pump that Havoc’ll have it crazy motherfucka
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| Bewitched and brain dead, leavin you headless motherfucka
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| The original from the block, ready to pop and drop
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| Glock on cock, Felony’s the locest as I focus like a mug shot
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| Hot like rocks, nah fuck that, like boilin lava
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| I’m wicked, sit back and kick it, as I saliva
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| How I took in your eyeball, I call all shots for the GNC
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| Nigga close your eyes cuz you ain’t seeing me
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| Five eight, seven fifteen, Bullet Loco still
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| Pissin in a cup, and I’m not givin a fuck
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| It’s on, fuck Oliver Stone, he made Colors
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| Gettin paid off gangbangin, I want my money motherfucka
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| I’m a bump ya, pluck ya like a chicken and cut your head off
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| Housin with a hundred thousand, ready to let em
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| Go to the pen, or make ends, that was my option
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| Now R-A-P gon put me up like adoption
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| I’m shoppin for brains and thangs, so marks jet
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| I’m addictive, like double nicotine in cigaretes
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| Let’s take this demon to the head loc, you scared loc?
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| I met my fuckin last smoke, leavin these bustas dead broke
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| Pass me the rap on the track and Bullet Loc gon come sick
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| Cuz at the end of the world there’s gon be gangstas
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| Cockroaches, and sherm sticks
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| Yeah, headbangas in the house yo
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| You playa hatas can’t stop this gangsta shit
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| You know what I’m sayin? |
| Haha
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| Step up, step off punk ass niggas
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| I flow real soft, soft as medicated cotton
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| Cuz I put my foot up your ass before you pass gas
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| Or even before you’re thikin bout farting
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| So what you saying? |
| So what you saying?
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| I’m lettin my gat bust
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| You bustas and you marks know I just don’t trust
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| Back on that flow, don’t you know
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| It’s that Prod from that sqaud
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| Kickin up in that dust as I bust as I mob
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| Metamorphisize from that BG to OG
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| All I see is G’s but you bustas can’t see me
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| Smokin motherfuckas so they bodies are cold
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| I’m kickin up on your ass till you crumble and fold
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| I’m on the creeps on them vouges
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| Droppin 6 to them 4's
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| Makin records, going gold
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| That’s my story in Vouge
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| Still try to break me but you’re broke
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| As I spoke, loc
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| Suckas hate the gunsmoke
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| Act I peel your cap like a cantaloupe
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| You think it’s settled when we knuckle up
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| I got insane like Saddam
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| And wreck your posse with my finger fuck
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| Five four three two um
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| Here it comes, one more time
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| Pistol whip dump when I’m packin up mine
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| Y’all don’t wanna do nothin, I’ma keep on bustin
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| G’s need to ease on back, or catch a cap in they knapsack
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| I sprayed your ass with a gauge and leave you dazed for days
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| So why must you drive my G flow
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| I swallow your ass up like Cujo
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| And I got em, hollow point for the gaffle
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| Seventeen in your ass like a raffle
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| So respect me, the Young P-R-O-D
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| I be that nigga that kill you for nineteen ninety G
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| I takes two to your jaw motherfucka you slip
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| I take two more and watch the swelling of your fat lip
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| Nigga, how’d you figga like a bitch I let you get away
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| Westside, CPT G’s that don’t play
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| I throws that CPT up, blaze up the blunt
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| Then I steps back and sits down my fuckin cup
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| My nigga Bird got my back when we square off
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| Toe to toe, don’t ya know surprise here comes the left blow
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| You get the steel toed boot, to your chin
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| You can’t win, oops it splits out your front tooth
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| Now you squirm like a worm in the dirt |
| You get hurt motherfucker cuz we puts in much work
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| You look up to see the barrel of my fuckin strap, playa
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| Eiht Hype best to get ready for a long night
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| I hit your block cuz I don’t care
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| Let the Glock go tick tock and I hit you what with, geah
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| I heard niggas had beef with SCC
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| And he was headed for the airport
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| Landed ass branded way up north
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| From Ill Town Eiht called me, said leaving with tech nine releases
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| Torches porched and piss out the pieces
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| Nigga wasn’t witty nor fuckin worthy
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| Cuz he had beef with Ant Banks, Boss, Spice 1, they tried to
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| Hide in Jersey
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| That was the wrong fuckin move, the wrong alley
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| To think the Murder Squad only had connections in Cali
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| Yes, with the murder, I said it flex
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| West coast to east coast quicker than Federal Express
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| Cuz we strike and we don’t lack for the wack
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| The T to the R to the E to the A to the C to the H is back!
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| Break yoself, it’s Sh’Killa, make way while I spray
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| Murder Squad spit out claim, my hood is the bay
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| Nine Glock Glock, ready to pop or stop
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| While those who rank high in might ride on top
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| Retaliation a must when I bust or blast
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| Retaliation and blank gun in hand with my mask
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| Can’t stop me I’m sick and I gives a fuck
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| See a nigga slippin, aim my shit then I bust
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| Break yoself, once again it’s on
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| I’m takin all, pump pump, drop gun, head up, hut one
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| Murder Squad, gangsta made beat be the shit
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| Murder Squad, gangstas for life and we sick
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| Niggas playa hate ya but I’m Naughty by Nature
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| Eiht ya got these niggas on the run, so let’s go get the guns
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| Takin they shit, gankin they riches, so a nigga can’t sew
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| Up your spot
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| I’m leavin your shit up in stitches, gotta decapitate motherfuckas
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| Can’t see me like Ray Charles
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| Kill em all, stick an ice pick in your shit and have ya HAAA!
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| Stabbin up shit like OJ, shoot em up with the motherfuckin AK
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| It’s that nigga from the east bay
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| Killin off shit when the gat spray
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| Motherfuckin hustler, fuck a busta
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| High billers we makin a nigga fry
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| Let’s all die, murder up some niggas call «Can I?»
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| With the infrared up on the nutsac, man blouw blouw!
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| With the infrared up on them throats, man go blouw blouw! |