| Hahahaha. |
| yeah!
|
| Hear me though, hear me though — heh, yeah
|
| You see it! |
| Say what? |
| You see it!
|
| Uh, uh (STAND UP!)
|
| I’m back in the fuck up in this bitch (who dat?) Me bitch (who dat?)
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| The Brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch?
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| I’m known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic
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| Cause when I’m spittin, I’mma split your shit in, when I aim
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| Yo you try to get a name, but ain’t, provin a thang
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| I’m still doin my thang (go 'head) bells they still rang (uh-huh)
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| Now who the lame that wan' tangle with Lil' Fame
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| Step in the ring and I’ll break yo' ass up — STAND UP!
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| (AAAAAAHHHH!!!) How you like me now?
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| That +Kool Moe Pee+ shit nigga, put it down
|
| Yo I need to silence the gat, shit too loud
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| When that bitch start to holla, nigga through child
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| Made the church people on your block wanna move out
|
| I bump off and I dump off, and a nigga cool out
|
| Why? |
| Cause when we in the place with the guns in our waist
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| We don’t say put your hands up, nigga (STAND UP!)
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| Sit down (STAND UP!) Sit down (STAND UP!)
|
| («First Fam, ridiculous!»)
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| Sit down (STAND UP!) Sit down (STAND UP!)
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| We don’t say put your hands up, nigga (STAND UP!)
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| You gotta get it, cause you nah lissen
|
| Dump off your body, send your whole family to 'gwan fishin
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| The street mayor, ghetto street playa
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| Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare
|
| Fuck the fame! |
| I agree, fuck the fame
|
| But I got four words for ya, don’t fuck with Fame
|
| Cause I’m a Machine Gun Kelly, clapper dude
|
| Write my name across your belly BRBRBRBRBRBRBR clap a dude!
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| Ain’t no escapin these streets I’m raised in (c'mon)
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| It’s so amazin (why?) We still blazin
|
| Ain’t no savin yo' ass from hell raisin
|
| They be scrapin your canteloupe off the pavement
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| Wit yo' wig split in half and yo' chest caved in
|
| So walk on the green, I’mma cut yo' ass down if you walk in between
|
| So listen up and hear me boy
|
| I’m the American (slash) pretty boy
|
| I done figured it out (what's that?)
|
| They don’t want us to shine (true!)
|
| You lost your mind if you thought I tossed my iron
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| I still got it, for when I’m facin situations like this
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| You dissin? |
| I’m hittin (buk buk buk buk buk buk)
|
| Listen, is it me or the industry don’t understand
|
| I’m a whole different breed of man
|
| Bill Danze, Brownsville, Bronx
|
| And I’m servin double and single shots on the rocks nigga
|
| (AAAAHHHHH!) What! |
| Who gon' tame me?
|
| I’m a bad block nigga and can’t, nobody change me
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| You can look at me strangely
|
| Keep yappin at your dogs if I go up in your mouth, don’t blame me
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| First Family trainee, take what’s mine
|
| is my time to shine, that’s that
|
| (Take it easy!) Fuck that, I’m ready yo
|
| I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools (STAND UP!)
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| Fizzy Wo' (suckers never played us)
|
| They can’t fade us, they hate us, they anus
|
| In fact when you touch 'em face to face, they stay in they place
|
| They know I’m slant up from the right side left five in one fist
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| (Shaddup!) Shutup! |
| Now you wanna show love?
|
| You hear the soft music in the background it’s your brain on slugs
|
| Now, it’s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it
|
| So I crept up, stepped up, got to it. |
| (STAND UP!)
|
| First Fam, ridiculous!
|
| Violators try to get with us, we quick to bust
|
| Them false dudes can’t get with us, homeskillet
|
| Cause we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough
|
| First Fam, ridiculous
|
| Fools try to move but them fools can’t get wit hus
|
| Cause we holdin (classin) loadin (blastin)
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| Strollin (crashin) rollin (MASHIN!!) |