| You can catch five, or catch me in the CL-5
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| Whatever way dog, The Game get live
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| Keepin it gangsta in a P.D. |
| fitted velour
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| Late night I’m in Dublin’s and I got myself a four
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| The hood love me, hoodrats gotta hug me
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| Pop ex, spark the buba, the shit get ugly
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| Rock the mic anywhere, and I ain’t talkin' 'bout a concert dog
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| Talkin' 'bout ten niggas in converts dog
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| Get it crackin' like we out in the yard, and the warden’s watchin'
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| Only difference is the whores is watchin'
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| Still love to see a nigga, roll up on 20's
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| Hop in that six-four, roll up on Bentley’s like
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| I’m a gangsta bay-bee from the C-P-T
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| Run with the Pound like I’m from DPG
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| If it’s beef, you C-Murder like it ain’t No Limit
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| And I represent the P like Russell Simmons
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| I’m a neighborhood superstar, get it, right
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| Got it? |
| Good, okay
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| It’s the Black Sox and Get Low we get dough
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| In the Yay they pimp hoes, in Compton we six-fo'
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| I know ya, love to watch me, 'specially when I’m lookin' rocky
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| The trey with the broccoli with my handles on the Kawasaki
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| Handle my jewels with the cuff in my shoes
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| Avi jacket on my elbow, fifty coast the jewels
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| In my neighborhood I’m Young Bill Gates, never shuffle the cake
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| So cover my face, and run up in the place
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| I’m a superstar, dick and my chain, glass bezel and bang
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| Eighty karats on my pinky and rang
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| Crews buzz when you speaking my name, cause I’m deep in the game
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| With top cool thangs and million dollar planes
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| I’m a maniac, young boy gone, like a young Roy Jones
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| You ought of my zone and ain’t nobody home
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| In my neighborhood, produce stars, stakes is high
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| Now we soaring through the spacious skies
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| Strap yo' body with them K’s and ride, the handle is up
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| Switching gears, hit the pedal and ride
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| I’m a shining star
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| And I gotta hit the boulevard in that new Jaguar
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| Why he move through traffic like that, purple haze
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| Ralways, the Ojays, the gangsta lean so… |