| You a what? |
| Bad Boy Killaz
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Hahaha, yeah, nigga, fuck 'em all!
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Fuck all you muthafuckers!
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| Ayo, Biggie, put your hands up!
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| Now, I can make it happen
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| My rappin' is similar to mothafuckers when they scrappin'
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| Blast and watch 'em back up
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| Notorious Biggie killer, affiliation with Death Row
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| Niggas get their caps peeled back, fool, this the West Coast
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| Bitch, you misdemeanor, I’m raisin' hell like felonies
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| Mr. Makaveli straight outta jail to sellin' these
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| Intoxicated, we duplicated but never faded
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| Now that we made it my adversaries is player hatin'
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| Got a Mercedes for these tricks, that thought I quit
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| Then got a drop top Jag for these bitches that’s on my dick
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| Go to a club in a pack, I’m smokin' bud in the back
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| I wait for niggas to trip ‘cause, bitch, I love to scrap
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| Mama raised me as a thug nigga, with love niggas
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| I’m a millionaire started as a drug dealer
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| I went from rocks to zines, writin' raps and movies
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| I went from trustin' these tricks
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| Now they all want to sue me, so fuck 'em all!
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Come put your hands up in the air!
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| It’s a middle finger affair, yeah
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Now, could you picture my criminal status at its fuckin' peak?
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| Even the baddest be gettin' murdered in they seats
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| I’m addicted to these streets, like crack is to these creeps
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| Seein' visions of a prison, wake up screamin' in my sleep
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| Is there a heaven in this hell? |
| A possibility of livin' well?
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| But if they killin' me, I get my stripes and whose to tell
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| Choosin' to sell, I’d rather die and be deceased
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| World mob figure addicted to these fuckin' streets
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| Now, put your muthafuckin' hands up if you’s a rider (Ride)
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| Niggas ain’t killers so they hidin' (Why?)
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| Fuck 'em all, touch 'em all; |
| that’s the way that we do it
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| Ride up, hop the fuck out, watch that bitch nigga lose it
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| Man, I’m as strong as this game, ya’ll be knowin' my name
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| A young high strung thug nigga created by pain
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| Livin' my life in the fast lane, gettin' fucked by the past
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| Got my mind on my cash
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| And my next piece of ass, so fuck 'em all!
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Come put your hands up in the air!
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| It’s a middle finger affair, yeah
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| I do my dirt all by my lonely
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| Don’t need no phony homie to call me
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Back off, I hit at everyone of you homies
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| So don’t get comfortable, I’m runnin' you
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Nigga, we Outlaw riders
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| Don’t give a fuck if you love us, we thuggin'
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| I got glad bags with enemies, cut up so they remember me
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| Soaked up in Hennessy, so they relatives know it’s me
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| You can bet your last dollar, I’ll dick 'em and holla
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| Ridin' these hoochies like they some heavy ass Chevy impalas
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| Jump up and get your ass shot up
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| For my profit pick my Glock up
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| I’m bustin' with self-defense, you see
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| Poppin' nobody got 'em, holla
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| Outlaw riders, mash up on the gas pedal
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| Vacate the scene, count the cash and stash the precious metal
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| Here come the coppers, the S.W.A.T. |
| team and the helicopters
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| Them crackers is crazy, why? |
| ‘Cause they’ll never stop us
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| I watched Arnold Schwarzenegger bust somebody in a movie
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| Now I want to do it too, ooh, ooh
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| Niggas is too through, true to the game
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| I claim Outlaw riders, we give a fuck what they try, I’m…
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| ‘Cause Young Noble behind it
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| Can you picture me stickin' niggas for they watch and chain?
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| Kick back, lil' nigga, and watch the game
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| Get your mob rocked and what-not
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| We keep it poppin', like a drug spot
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| The streets know what’s hot, trust me
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| Even my hood call me «baby Malcolm X»
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| With the TEC’s, shower some slugs on 'em
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| I’ve got a brother, don’t rest and he keeps some drugs on him
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| Always in grind mood, hustle to find food
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| Ever seen Faces of Death? |
| That’s what my 9 do
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| I keep my mind on my money, and my money on my mind
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| With my back against the wall, like I’m runnin' outta time
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| Even rap with a gat, I must be goin' out my mind
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| Like I’m up against the world, this guerilla team of mine
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| Screamin', «Thug Life, bitch, fuck 'em all!» |
| and die for 'em
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| Even if the last nigga left I’ma ride for 'em
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| Feel me? |
| Until they kill me, that’s how I’m rollin'
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| «Fuck 'em all, let them die!» |
| — that’s my slogan; |
| fuck 'em all!
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Come put your hands up in the air!
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| It’s a middle finger affair, yeah
|
| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| I do my dirt all by my lonely
|
| Don’t need no phony homie to call me
|
| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Back off, I hit at everyone of you homies
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| So don’t get comfortable, I’m runnin' you
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| Nigga, we Outlaw riders
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| Don’t give a fuck if you love us, we thuggin'
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!)
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| (That's right, bitch, fuck 'em all!) |