| Tour bus looking like a brothel
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| Catching more bodies than Hostel
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| Flatbush Zombies put money in my pocket
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| If it’s war against them, I’ma pop it
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| Word like apostles
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| Kid from the ghetto listening to heavy metal, rock rolled in my sock
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| I ain’t never been afraid, renegade got bars like mess halls
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| Locked three meals in the cot, nigga, what?
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| Pussy at noon got me feeling brand new
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| When the sun come down, I’m leavin'
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| Fuck I look like? |
| A fool?
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| Throwing shade like cool, bitch don’t wake me up, I’m dreamin'
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| Puff, puff, pass, that’s old school
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| I’m getting yesterday’s paper, that’s old news
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| The way I’m programmed, I never hold hands
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| Straight business, first class, never the coach
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| I’ma handle the game the way I handle the coke
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| Hand to hand on Instagram, picture the post
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| Nigga, picture me broke, I got a pitcher of Henny
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| I know my liver be ready for adios, but I’m stuck like
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| I’m a sure thing, I don’t close call
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| I mean we all kings, but there’s one god
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| There’s one Allah, there’s one Jah, bless
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Now I pose for pictures, can’t fuck with you, be more specific
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| Cross me like when you beg forgiveness
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| I didn’t like your vibe so I kept my distance
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| Niggas do it all for the paper
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| Institution was made then strewn to little girls and boys
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| But now «the world is yours,» my nigga please
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| I done gross over a hundred G’s
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| That’s a lot of of money, still I’m screaming, «Fuck the police!»
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| In my motions I can’t pretend that I’m different than you
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| But nigga listen and pay attention when I make a move
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| Vision blurred, I don’t see no deterrence
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| But seeing the same niggas then saying the same words
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| Cycling that nature, puffing the same flavor
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| My niggas is Tanboys, original delegators
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| We ripping the floor panel and all
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| With a matter of force we go and handle you boys
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| We only family of course
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| Nobody ever gave a fuck about us, you never believed
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| Can’t believe they fucking doubted, now they can see
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| Child of the corn, Darko, freak off the leash
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| Rather unique, who art thou Van Gogh?
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| Randy Savage on beats, I bark proud, pitbull
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| If you break in my house he bark wild, fuck you talking 'bout?!
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| Lil nigga I spark proud, pop a band
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| Throw up bread, you should learned it by now
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| Make 'em say, «ugh,» then examine her mouth
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| Then it’s get to stepping, I’m kicking Pamela out (Get to stepping!)
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| That Tommy hold a lot of slugs might be a hundred rounds
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| Them Flatbush niggas a shmurda ya, rusty tre pounds
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| Shoot you and throw it in the air, like a cap and gown
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| I demand the throne and the crown, tell 'em I want it now (Ha!)
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| Hair swinging when I’m shooting like O-Dog in that movie
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| Zombie gang fully lucid, Bathing Ape, fully draped
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| GG Allin lucky I ain’t get to shit on his grave
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| Knuckle it behind bars like a prisoner in cage
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| Johnny Cage, black shades, hit off half yo face
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| My orange box-cutter make the world rotate
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| My orange box-cutter make the world rotate
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| On its axis, acid, sheets that ain’t for the mattress, bastard
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| I need a honor roll for this shit, I need a honor roll for this shit
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| Thank the Lord it’s lit, thank the Lord it’s lit
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| Hopping out a bodega, need a pack, never later, later
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| Flatbush, Tanboy stylin' (WHOO!)
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| All my niggas get lit like a chalice, all my niggas get lit like a chalice
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| Cookies in my blunt, liquor in my gut, most you niggas suck
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| I’m on top of the world like Brandy said
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| So high, so high like Michel’le
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| Feeling unstoppable every bone and my particles
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| In the cut blowing tropicals
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| And they said it’s impossible for a black young man to kill this shit
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| For a tan young man to kill this shit
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| So, more or less I do my thing
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| No stress, no crane, progression, mane
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| More or less we do our thing
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| No stress, no crane, progression, mane
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| All them lying ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
|
| All them pussy ass niggas, bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out
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| Where the hoes? |
| Where the hoes? |
| Bring 'em out, bring 'em out |