| Keep talking that talk till' we catch you out there and tint your lids
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| I put all my focus on a new way to ballons the kids
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| There ain’t enough accolades to cover the shit we did
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| A grown up had shrouded me on the neck, but I’m disinterested
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| When it comes to rated R shit, I’m double and back like Mr. Big
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| Worry bout family ties 'cause my cousin’ll smack you with the SIG
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| Stumbling backwards, split yo' wig, humbling bastards, fist the jig
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| I don’t even know who the fuck you are, let alone what your business is
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| Party stairs and Cartier glares, ricochet shots and break spears
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| My sons' is dissing me, mad as hell when a car seat takes stairs
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| I trump these niggas, 8 tiers
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| Apply the pressure, shake peers
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| Faced on my fears, seeing my nickname on the marquee, great years
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| Ears to the slower life, two to three kids, a home, a wife
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| Stabled in, if I roll the dice, grounded, growing, it’s cultured, ice
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| Living in danger most my life, could’ve just stopped, I chose my vice
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| Putting this work to make sure I’m buried in ice
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| You cross the line, my nigga, none of that shit will be forgiven
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| Take opinions wit' ya, don’t ever question how we livin'
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| Owe it to the dead, and all of my niggas in the prison
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| This is infrared, right on the target, take it in lead
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| I need my kids to live fly, I’m not just trying to get by
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| You violate, meet your fate, me and this nine on my side
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| Nobody’s hot and whenever you come around, we outside
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| Let a nigga take one of ours, it’s only right we drop five
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| Uh
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| The name will always hold weight, I’ll leave it to little Chris
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| You bitch, I’m killing this for you, diss me, do your due diligence
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| Industry playing experiments, Damn I wish you were still a fan
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| Started for 20 years, on the average they out the bench
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| Calling you find the realest stinge, Ive been the shit
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| I’m still convinced, my penmanship, dismember shit
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| I’ve been feeding this game since I entered it
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| Back, since you mentioned it, wondering where the tension went
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| Niggas fucking up the draft class, magazine full of trash bags
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| Smoking and drinking 'till it made me ill, praying for God to take the wheel
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| My rhyme is exceptional, so my neighbors chill
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| Be cool your honor, I’m moving commas, excuse your partner
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| A true provider, in blue Gabbana, the coupe’s designer
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| My pools piranha, I lose the drama in Punta Cana
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| There’s never a question on who’s the rider, remove the timer
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| Life is a bitch, will makes excuses out her, persevere
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| Piece of cake when your purposes clear
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| Second time I’ve been cursed this year
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| You cross the line, my nigga, none of that shit will be forgiven
|
| Take opinions wit' ya, don’t ever question how we livin'
|
| Owe it to the dead, and all of my niggas in the prison
|
| This is infrared, right on the target, take it in lead
|
| I need my kids to live fly, I’m not just trying to get by
|
| You violate, meet your fate, me and this nine on my side
|
| Nobody’s hot and whenever you come around, we outside
|
| Let a nigga take one of ours, it’s only right we drop five |