| Talking: Cuz I’m tellin you man they aint nothing else to talk about
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| the same shit every motherfuckin album, I dont give a damn how many he put
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| out he talk about the same shit from goddamn T.R.U.
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| you got D’s, candy paint, wood grain with the leather seats
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| mercedes, baby, lady, baby, crazy, merecdes
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| I done heard that shit 2pac wannabe ass nigga (mocking P) I aint no rapper
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| I write short films
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| o.k. |
| grab your popcorn ain’t no more sunshine.
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| Come on, O.K., peep it my techs swing low like sweet chariots
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| Bust em and burry em That be his faithness sending flowers to they wait
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| And crying at they wake
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| And mourning with these motherfuckaz mothers
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| Fotr plottin out a way to kill they brother
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| Another nigga bled another niggaz gone be bleeding
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| Cuz I ain’t trynna hear that shit this evening
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| Yall niggaz best believe in Guerilla warfare
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| Lets creep across the cemetery how they get there
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| I tell ya was this nigga from Lake Olmstead
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| My nigga said that he been fucking up dope since day one so instead
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| of pumpin the shit in Olmstead
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| I suggest he take that stupid shit to Sunset
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| But naw, but naw he wanna play bad Billy bad ass and shit
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| I’m flawing my game like I can’t perform the hit
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| I threw on the fucking plastic bag
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| wrapped my hands around his ass the squeezed
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| til the nigga cant breath
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| Limiting cheese about my trap, how the fuck imma catch the mouse
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| If you busting ya gun and steady runnin ya mouth
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| But down south I aint no hard ass nigga
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| But best believe real come the thriller
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| Motherfucka I feel ya Blast them hollow points, cuz hollow points get points across
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| They want the juice but they dont want to pay the cost
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| Now who’s the boss
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| My nigga ask these hoes
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| I’m nuttin in they mouth and they nose
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| They eyes if they aint closed
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| The lifestyle that I chose who knows may make me rich
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| But if them feds kick down them doors then lifes a bitch
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| I’m sittin in the patty wagon thinking bout the snitch
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| And wit my phone call I know exactly who to hit
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| My niggaz Don Perry we got some bodies to burry
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| Hide them niggaz with rugers and hide them lugers with Karen
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| Now its very nescesary that this bid go through
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| Cuz I already know my niggaz threw
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| Aint no motherfuckin sunshine
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| chorus: Aint no motherfuckin sunshine, Its only tech nines and clips and
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| niggaz that equip for whatever
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| I thought you knew better, but you still ran your mouth now you runnin from
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| them fuckin Georgia Boys from down south
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| Aint no sunshine my nigga, the sun aint gonna shine
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| Till I reach about a million
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| Talkin billions with Brazilions
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| I got this funny feeling that I’m gone be filthy rich
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| And I’m gone marry money cuz money’s a faithful bitch
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| If it aint one thang its ten more so fuck another
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| Surrounded by undercovers everytime they see they sucker
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| My mind be in the gutter, but thats how I burn the house
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| Because I try to prove what these pussy niggaz bout
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| These niggaz make me shout, yea they frustrate me Because I sell dope I guess thats why these niggaz hate me Make me recall, think it was the fall of 96
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| But time dont matter nigga doing the same shit
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| The Narcs about to hit
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| His habit made em tell
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| Officer and the law, bastard crooked as hell
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| They lookin for Terrel
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| Mixed him up with Derrel it’s 2 Derrels
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| They hit they doe with Marquel
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| Breakin em on the phone, told my niggaz time to bail
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| They knew we shot them niggaz they just lookin for the shells
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| They try to best they nail, like nail give me a break
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| Us cooley high niggaz, us niggaz is hard to take
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| We, appreciate they bust
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| We, appreciate they threat
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| We, appreciate that we so smooth they aint caught us yet
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| Now Karen want respect, claim I’m doing her wrong
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| But my name is not Rome, I dont know where I belong
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| Pumpin her up with these songs, so so-long to all three
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| get O.U.T. |
| but first let me get my thangs
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| The ho had bring me box with the lock that she was holdin
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| She brought my shit downstairs, my fuckin box was open
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| I’m holdin my breath before I mothafuckin hurt her
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| Rambaling through my shit no shells from the murder
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| I asked her calmly where the fuck is my shit
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| Troy thats all I had |
| What the fuck you mean bitch
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| It should have been six empty bullets and my ruger
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| Fuck trynna explain popped her, had to shoot her
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| I knew that the murders would interfer with my grindin
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| But what the fuck you expect if the sun aint shinin
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| My mind is fucked up I keep on picturing Karens head jerking
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| Disturbing me while Im working
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| This clouds lurking over me, like a cartoon
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| Too hot in the streets I got to stay in my room
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| Soon to be charged 3 murders second count
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| But once in this will, twinzo I leave her out
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| Yo burn for your nigga, bout the dope visit my brother
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| Its back to Atlanta, shit too hot in Augusta and I knew I shouldnt trust her
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| cuz I keep thinking bout her ass
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| Bout 2 or 3 knocks at my door and who is that
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| Just that fast, niggaz done ran up in my shit
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| Ski mask and guns and they, shooting to hit
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| I ran up stairs to get my gat yea that mack
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| I’m running and ducking one grazed me cross my back
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| But then I reach my gat, payback I’m bustin rockets
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| Ran back to the stairs took two clips off in my pocket
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| His gun I heard him cock it went the bustin over there
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| I’m poppin on them pussy niggaz, die nigga yea
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| I pop one in his ear, told him I would fear nothin
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| Snatched a mack up off the nigga, and is there Karen’s cousin
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| Then I rushed into the bathroom then turned off the light
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| I heard somebody footsteps approaching to my right
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| Now bullets taking flight. |
| I'm bustin in all directions
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| I layed in the tub praying for my protection
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| Done hit me to perfection I was fucked up in the game
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| While laying in the tub I heard them niggaz call my name
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| My 6'3 frame to be filled with bullet holes
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| If I gotta leave some more of them has got to go
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| I ran back to the stairs and went the bustin with mine
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| All directs wit tech 9
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| but they waitin in line, I was fine shit went to the phone to call Greg
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| Boom, Boom done took two to the head
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| It aint no fuckin sunshine! |