| To the G’s, to the custys
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| To the hood rats, where the kush at
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| Marcberg in the all black book bag
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| Push your bush back nigga this is good crack
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| What it look like nigga this is hood rap
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| Get it in fam till I bring the hook back
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| That’s G shitted, I had to sleep with it
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| Creep with it in the Jeep tinted
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| Weed scented, tricks up under sleeve hidden
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| Flea bitten this is street business
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| The heat niggas get beat with it
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| Squeeze triggers like green lemons
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| A dream winner, nigga we pitchin' heat like Clemens
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| Eleven innings, takin' ?, you’re did in
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| Mac 10 push your shit in
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| I slid in like a villain, stealin'
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| Twinkie fillin' start spillin' out your widdig
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| I went in like swimmin', venom
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| Split 'em and hem 'em like denim, lit up the izm
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| My position, Benz driven, men of vision
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| Support my decision but who isn’t?
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| Picture me livin' with a Robin Givens, locked in prison
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| But now I’m on top rockin' lizard, exquisite
|
| To the G’s, to the custys
|
| To the hood rats, where the kush at
|
| Marcberg in the all black book bag
|
| Push your bush back nigga this is good crack
|
| What it look like nigga this is hood rap
|
| Get it in fam till I bring the hook back
|
| Well it’s the gun clapper, one stacker, shellacker
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| Pimp, no limp nor relaxer
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| Get at ya, catch ya, and capture your Cleopatra
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| And push your burrito backwards
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| I had to use a few guido tactics, made nigga
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| Rock them De Niro in Casino glasses
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| I should clap you and leave the ratchet
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| Ride the beat tight like a speedo jacket
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| Nothin' less than a kilo package, on the
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| Average, fine wine pour on the tablet
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| And more elaborate fabric, a lot of raw in the cabinet
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| Prada on with the cashmere, keep the gat near the cashier
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| You’re like deer versus black bear
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| Rap clear, and let the wax tear off your back hair
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| I’m back in here, act sincere
|
| I smash your ear with a glass of beer like «yeah»
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| The master with the shaft beard
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| I don’t crack and stare, I’m packin' swear
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| Dashin', I mash 'em, smash and tear
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| You’re just asses, you’re flat and square
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| Splash 'em, what’s happenin' you like what’s here
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| Fast and frail yeah that’s what’s fair
|
| Cats despair up on you let the rachets hail
|
| To the G’s, to the custys
|
| To the hood rats, where the kush at
|
| Marcberg in the all black book bag
|
| Push your bush back nigga this is good crack
|
| What it look like nigga this is hood rap
|
| Get it in fam till I bring the hook back
|
| Nigga it’s hard not to backpedal
|
| When you got crack to peddle and you pack metal
|
| I bag your missus like fat nickels
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| To have me feelin' like I’m Fat Cat Nichols
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| I pass bags out the rental
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| To little niggas like skittles
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| Uh, you’re just kibble
|
| I take bites at your riddles not nibbles
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| I clap missiles at your bureau
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| To put your face up on the wall like a mural
|
| We get De Niro by the Euro
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| And put them VVS stones on the earlobes
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| I appear as a pharaoh
|
| With six hollow head shells and a barrel
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| My apparel is that of a sparrow, fly to the marrow
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| I should be in the sky like a arrow
|
| You see me you see the culture
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| In 3D, I’m the opposite of mediocre
|
| As for wifey this thing is over
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| As soon as I meet me a Oprah I’m a need a chauffeur
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| The Louis loafer on the sofa
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| I keep a toolie in the holster like Sosa
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| I’m not a boaster
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| I’m just a vulture my face on a wanted poster
|
| The streets is a mother
|
| The fiends want the butter it’s hard to see through the clutter
|
| My artistry is the gutter, but honestly
|
| I’d rather be in the league not the Rucker
|
| As I proceed in the chucka, your queen want me to cut her
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| You might need to cuff her mufucka |