| Y’all think a nigga playing?
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| Don’t let me have to lace you up
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| Louder
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| Turn it up
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| J Dilla…
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| Verse 1: Guilty Simpson
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| Take notice
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| I’m jumping in the game head first and make the TEC jerk
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| To cancel your network
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| You feminine cats catch a bad one
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| My gun gon' be there poking that ass with Magnums
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| I spar with the best
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| Just the first of my litter, come see the scars on my chest
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| We savage
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| Ill style with extra static
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| Before you talk shit, you better know the hearts of the niggas you walk with
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| This ain’t no slap on the wrist shit, this sick shit
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| Homicidal energy, something to empty clips with
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| Negative, gutter
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| This is what you want, this is what you get
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| Take it in the brain motherfucker
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| This ain’t no slap on the wrist shit, this sick shit
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| Homicidal energy, something to empty clips with
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| Negative, gutter
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| This is what you want, this is what you get
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| Take 'em in the brain motherfucker
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| Verse 2: J Dilla
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| It’s the filth, the flawn
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| The flawn, the filth
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| The nights with the pimps
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| The cars
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| The hard hitters, the giants
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| Cats preparing for they last days like it’s J2K
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| But they way too late
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| Wrap up a piece
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| Ready to feast
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| Maybe they’ll save you a plate
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| We out to take over your radio waves
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| Nowadays I don’t do it for the mics
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| Cause they pay for them things
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| Fucking up letting J in the game
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| I don’t sleep, I
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| Load the heat and
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| Wait to aim it and bang
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| Guilt with Dilla dog
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| A dangerous game
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| Yeah, and this ain’t the slap on the wrist shit
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| This big shit
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| Feel more energy
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| Somethin to smack a bitch with
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| Gully, gutter
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| Givin' you what you want
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| Twistin' it up to take it to the head motherfucker
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| Verse 3: Guilty Simpson
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| Extended families, my brotherhood
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| Catch 'em in the face like a heavyweight with no guard
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| Pardon me as I bogart
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| Mature monster
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| I outthink the average, but equally savage
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| Send the generals of your roster
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| I send 'em back in a sack
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| Murder minister counter reacts and launches attacks
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| Ruthless
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| Ten branches, ten nooses
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| Ten necks, ten TECs and ten shooters
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| Black booters, late night intruders
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| You ever seen a panther maneuver?
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| I’m even smoother, guy
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| You might lose your eye
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| Either way you choose you die
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| We cruising high
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| River rules, July the fourth
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| Slidin' off and fire the horse
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| .45 colt, niggas scatter from thunderous lightning bolts
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| Rewrite your notes and recite them jokes
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| You like to quote
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| I ice your throat
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| After that I’ll slice your throat
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| With the same razor use to slice the dope
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| Not by me
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| But I know those types of folks
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| Now calm down
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| I never could put the firearm down
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| That’s why everything I do stresses Mom now
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| Verse 4: J Dilla & Guilty Simpson
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| J Dilla:
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| First name J, Last name Deezy
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| Here to change the game, playa, please believe me
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| A cake boy 'til my heart stops pumping
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| Mission complete when y’all niggas mouths stop runnin'
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| Guilty Simpson:
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| Last name Simpson, the first name guilty
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| Taking the game further than most of you niggas will be
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| A dread-narc 'til my heart stops pumpin'
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| Destined for greatness when these A&R stop frontin'
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| Motherfuckers |