| Hug your right hand, jumped off the plane, kissed the white man
|
| A steady act, curly hair, chubby, fly mustache nigga
|
| Money was long, and plush hat, shit cost nine thousand
|
| Picture me in the housing, serving much crack
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| Cat look at me, I’m real, lobbin' on the field
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| For real, I shot niggas shakin' their hands, I’m ill
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| Damn, one of them business man’s
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| I just seen 'em murk a nigga, but he jerked him at the same time
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| (That's fam. (Polite: oh shit))
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| That’s fam, one of those Columbians who got money
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| One of those niggas might try to get up on me
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| Yo, damn, I need to eat, and I’m a man
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| I’m a stand up, nigga, I’mma handle when I’m makin' my plan
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| Pop, I’ll take two hundred bricks, hit me
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| One helicopter had the super bungalo with the van
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| All ill technology to watch if I ran, he only gave me
|
| Woody gave sixty eight other black mans
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| Now. |
| if Pa-Blow would’ve kept it gangsta
|
| None of this shit would’ve never happened
|
| Now the DEA was on his ass
|
| Slick Saucony’s on, big homey takin' a blast or somethin'
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| Handsome big niggas around him
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| Surroundin' him with big glasses on, drinkin' on lances, fam
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| Most them niggas fastin'
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| Cuz when he fed niggas after that, pussy and grass
|
| Had made backs, eight labs, his date was Miss Mass-
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| Achusetts, Cap eatin' fruit, tongue in his ass
|
| You can’t fuck with the cartel, you barked at it
|
| Jabbed her and shot her in the back, I can’t stand the bird
|
| Word to furs, I need big wizes
|
| He looked at me, «Huh, exactly, Chef go after big bitches»
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| Frozen burner henchman, flash the great
|
| Lookin' nine on me, rhinestones, no, them shits is dime stones
|
| Hold a million dollar pound, bust something, don’t trust nothin'
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| I’m in shock, starin' it down
|
| Now. |
| here’s where this shit gets crazy!
|
| The killas increase, he fell, but
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| Maybe a little bit, the Mediene Cartel will fail
|
| Diego his horse, with George Young
|
| Yo, will argue over large sales, hittin' Cuba with lumps, yeah
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| Call them niggas drug barons, eighty billion workers sniff
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| Gettin' lift ownin' Miami yo
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| Flips got bigger, makin' more trails
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| Set it out of nowhere when coppin' a jail, I’m eatin' fresh veal
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| Pa-Blow, the largest nigga involved
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| The arsenal will have sixty three hundred murders
|
| Livin' in apartments, wild he violated flight a Bianca
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| Took two hundred niggas down but two men houndin' him
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| The fuckin' cockroches posin' the on six million dollars sold
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| We’re eatin' enchilada, goat cheese pasta
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| Yeah we’re drippin' it with more salsa
|
| And then they rushed in, found him on the roof dead in his boxers
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| But it wasn’t him
|
| The story. |
| oh shit. |
| mothafucka!
|
| Hahahahaha |