| You heard other raps before, but kept waitin'
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| A lot of niggas is hatin', these hoes is like Satan
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| I’m still debatin' whether I should build or destroy
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| What the Earth keep on shakin'
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| I’mma keep on makin'
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| Hit after hit be comin' out of the basement
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| There’s no replacement from a slew of great men
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| I’m about to break in
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| Damage every snake and Gin, you can’t win
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| I’m the truth, you a fake friend
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| Realness against falsehood, do it again
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| Get money, work hard, don’t become a victim
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| Mind your own sick wisdom
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| Study math, get your friend some
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| Never quit 'till you get done
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| God over fiction, this is my addiction
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| Anytime, homie, I’m about to spit somethin'
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| Traded crack for rap, and I’m a rich sucka
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| J3 murderous tracks, all day, facts
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| Through your mind, body and soul
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| Let it be told I ain’t nothin' to play around with
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| Baby, I get down quick
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| Ebony chicks love me for my heavenly kiss
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| I do it for the bricks, I let it off like a piss
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| Send in the stunt doubles
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| I have no time for the petty, little power struggles
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| No time to tussle
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| I epitomize the hustle, the struggle of the underground
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| Cynics and critics, I shut 'em up and shut 'em down
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| Schemin' and plottin', yet I keep 'em so aroused
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| When I come around
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| They say it’s business, never personal
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| Balance the scale, tell me what’s the worse of the two?
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| This industry’s unjust and corrupt
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| Huskey cut for a couple of bucks and a few busted nuts
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| Yet they keep insistin' in God they trust
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| It’s blasphemous, let the church say «amen»
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| Keep repentin' your sins
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| Say a few Hail Mary’s, turn around, and do it all again
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| Livin' a lie, he just tryin' to win, tryin' to win
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| Yeah, they call me the black boy, boy
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| No, it’s not a game, not playin' with no toys
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| Epitome of bangin', his set make no noise
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| My set sanctuary, you faggots folklore
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| A urban legend, a Mac is a blowtorch
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| Runnin' down the line, pack slammers of all sorts
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| Trappin' from the green, help fortin' the back porch
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| Let’s take him to the building to get these packs off
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| In war with the system that be lettin' these raps walk
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| Turn 'em into victims so the witnesses back off
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| The V82, better tell 'em that crack course
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| The view of the bully, better go tell 'em ask boss
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| A five time felon, get your kufi slapped off
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| Look, got 'em shook, this a doobie rap, dawg
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| A five time felon, get your kufi slapped off
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| Look, got 'em shook, this a doobie rap, dawg
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| Higher than ever before, tryin' these weapons I bought
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| Iron respectin' for all, I’m straight checkin' your hog
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| Without collectin' your charts, beatings with seconds apart
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| We dissectin' the vault while they be testin' the hog
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| No instrument, so-called
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| No cold incidents, no more
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| Po-po pinchin' us, inchin' us over the edge
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| Ship us over to FEDs, stiffin' over the breads
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| S.O.S., that shit’s beef
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| Turn and miss me
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| Turn 6 days into 6 weeks plus into 6 years
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| All that liquor and triggers turn into cold D’s and OG’s that sip beer
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| Timin' a vic here, the climate is cold enough
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| And I’mma throw it up if she drivin' the pole up
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| Survivin' from growin' up and livin' off robberies
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| So if you don’t do the math then you learn trickonometry |