| I use to wanna be on Soul Train
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| Till I got up on Soul Train
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| And found out Soul Train
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| Was nothing like a Soul Train
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| Now I wanna push it away
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| I use to wanna be a Rap Singer
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| Till I started Rap Singing
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| And found out Rap Singing
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| Was nothing like Rap Singing
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| Now I wanna push it away
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| We in the place where cat’s yacking, busting for a fat sack
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| Your gat’s packed, they hitting back
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| Spitting, you ain’t getting that
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| I’m coming close to any flow that I kick
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| I’m throwing, Petey got me on tape boning your Bitch
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| I’m so sick, hit the button and get the buzz and hit the club
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| Mr. Martin the dirty rotten scoundrel that you wish you was
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| It’s still Cypher, I and cock them steel pipes
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| Ya' feel Cyph
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| Knock your block off then
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| Oh shit, he done «done"it again
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| My mouth is fully loaded like this gun burning my lead
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| Turning your heads, like finding out your girl is «Les»
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| And Cyph got the bitch in the bed, spreading leg’s giving me head
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| I rock with Petey, bitch
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| Cause when I rock with Petey
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| Petey got me on that verbalist shit
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| This murderous pen,
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| A full course meal with
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| Deserving you end
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| Son, the way you swerving the Benz
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| Let me catch you outside and curb stomp you and your man’s
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| Fuck pretend, 'round her Son it’s real now
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| It’s real now
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| Motherfucker I said it’s real now
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| So cut the bullshit
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| Fuck it you ain’t fooling shit
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| Faggots, when you see us
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| Start shitting while you growing spit
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| And who the hell is you to charge and lean
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| When we the illest motherfuckers rocking, step in the game
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| Right through the door
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| Put your hair right on the floor
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| The same way I put nine inches through the ass of your whore
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| Passion is raw
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| Even though I smash on your jaw
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| We laughing at y’all
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| Y’all pussies, fuck blasting at y’all
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| I use to wanna be on Soul Train
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| Till I got up on Soul Train
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| And found out Soul Train
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| Was nothing like a Soul Train
|
| Now I wanna push it away
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| I use to wonder why my folk be sipping syrup, and syr-syrup
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| Like Aunt Jemima Syrup, and nope
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| That ain’t the same kinda syrup
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| I’m mean, when I finally hit me some syrup
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| Found out why they were sipping on syrup
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| Um, earl
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| I earled right in front of a girl
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| She was a pretty girl, not just any girl
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| I was trying to get with the girl
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| And show the girl I’m the shit that I was
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| Up, fuck it, fuck her
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| Kick her to the curb
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| On to the next bitch
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| She ain’t see me earl
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| Guess I still got my reputation with her
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| Come on chick
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| Before my stomach start b-burbelling and I have to earl again
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| Anyway yep, back to the subject
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| In here fucking with Shane, Wes Cyphers,
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| Using up fifty-five track
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| Three o’clock, the session over
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| We gonna have to leave out in here
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| Simon told Butch, keep his eyes on that
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| Shit, I ain’t scared
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| I ain’t leaving here
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| Until I’m good and goddamn ready
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| And I don’t I think I’m goddamn ready
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| Man, I’m steady
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| Coming up with more hot shit, the longer I stay in this bitch
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| So how y’all gonna fuck up that
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| Man, leave me alone
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| Let me stay where the fuck I’m at
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| Ain’t nothing but some money
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| What’s money, fuck money
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| Ain’t nothing but some paper with some goddamn dead motherfuckers on it
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| Can’t take it with ya' when they put ya' in the hole
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| And throw the goddamn dirt all over ya' |