| Welcome
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| Let the games begin, and we’re uninvited
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| This yo' bread bakin', Fed shakin' Frisco city counterpart
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| JT Tha Bigga Figga, Game Recognize Game in the Bay, mayne
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| On this intro for the young Mac Dreezy
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| Man, I remember when we first hooked up on a humbug
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| In the Big Oaktown, Jack London Square
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| Diamond shoppin' and collar poppin'
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| Never to know we the top of the Rompin' Nation
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| Paper chasin' and Chevy racin'
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| That’s our occupation
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| But he fresh up out the feds though
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| With his new album Stupid Doo Doo Dumb
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| Guaranteed to have every ghetto nigga sprung
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| So peep this here game, mayne
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| I was sixteen-years-old, fresh up off the ranch
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| Got an extra 45 days, got caught with a half a tamp
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| Too Hard for the Radio poundin' in Chevy Novas
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| Young soldiers off killa doja, blaze the roper, I told ya
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| What’s Really Goin' On was the name of the song, hoe
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| The California Livin' got me On My Toes
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| I’m Y-double-B out the family tree of them Crest Macs
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| The Romper Room, Crew Thang, Loced Out and the SES Fac
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| Now the Crestside Country Club ballers and baby thugs
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| My nigga came home and the ‘more showed love
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| But he back up in yo' face representin' the Bay
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| So peep game from my cuddie, playa potna Mac Dre |