| Play this record-
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| This is a certified hood classic
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| Bitch, I’m flexed up, see me with my pipe (Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo)
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| Got my goonies with the yoppa and a snipe (Boom-boom)
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| Real trap shit
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| Take yo chains and yo watch and yo Nikes (Gimme that)
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| Bitch, I’m flexed up, see me with the pipe (Graa)
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| Bitch, I’m flexed up, even at the store (Like what the fuck?)
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| Got a choppa, that’s my toolie, grippin' poles (Boom-boom)
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| But that bitch, gave me neck, 'till she choke (what the fuck?)
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| All my niggas, shootin' bullets like we bloks (Like what the fuck?)
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| I just squat a plug, took his work (I took his pack)
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| I just ran up on the field, on his turf (On his turf)
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| R.I.P memo lizzie on her shirt (On her shirt)
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| I put that nigga’s ashes right in my purp (In my purp)
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| I told that bitch to stop, huh
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| Fuck all yo friends, they too rich to pop, off!
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| Please step to me, I could knock your top, off!
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| Niggas show no love, I know why you talk
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| Soft ass nigga
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| Light fell on the gas, nigga
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| Fuck keeping my friends
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| All that shit is in the past, nigga
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| Oh, you want some now, huh
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| Why you never ask, whether
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| I was doing good or needed help inside this bad weather
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| Act like you’re my friend
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| Or I’ll assume you just gon' use me for my talent
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| In the end those niggas always end up losing you in balance
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| I ain’t putting in no time, don’t hit me just to talk
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| So don’t be asking for a dime when my wrist is rocked
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| (You don’t even hit my line, nigga the fuck?)
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| Jugg them packs and we know that I swerve
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| Niggas talking bullets 'till they ass got burnt
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| Yeah, I give 'em warning, but they still won’t learn (Aye, fuck)
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| Da-da-da-da, when it’s drive-by, hit curbs (Skr, skrttt)
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| Niggas try to press me, but they steal cash, bitch
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| See me pull up, now his body in the ditch
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| I don’t give a fuck, make it stun, he gon' miss (Boom-boom)
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| Bitch, I’m James Hardy when I’m shooting with the wrist (Oh, fuck)
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| Real trap shit
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| Eeightythree
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| R-r-r-r-r-ride in the moshpit
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| Light 'em up, he get shot quick
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| And I really make that top
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| Spin the chopper, off him
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| Never had shit, I’m not sober fucking often (Ofteeen)
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| Moving weight, I put in work like it’s fucking CrossFit (CrossFiiiit)
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| Gimme-gimme top, bitch, you finna ride this fucking Glock, bitch
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| When you see me in the night, I’m with my fucking goblins
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| I’mma turn that bitch nostalgic, I’m really poppin'
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| I’m the master and lil' bitch you still a novice
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| Stalking 'till he all alone, hear the knockin'
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| He a pussy, he don’t want no motherfuckin' problems
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| Got a hole in his head, in his skull, turn 'em dolphins
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| Said that he wants static then we can get to shockin'
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| Bring the Glock in, bop bop, two shots in his legs
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| Yeah, on crutches, he ain’t walking
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| I don’t listen when you’re talkin', I’m getting paid for talking
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| RVR3 is the set, lil' bitch, we on that squad shit
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| You are not a part of it, so back the fuck up off of me
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| Chopper do 'em bad, chopper give his ass lobotomy
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| Yeah, I’m moving with narcotics, G
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| Smoking collared greens
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| I just popped me a bean
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| Take a few of the greens
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| I’mma really let it gleam
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| End the party with my beam
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| Got a couple killas with me
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| Couple killas on my team
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| I be burnt out, pissed, spill some Wok on my jeans
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| I be stepping in Margielas when I pull up to the scene |