| Yo, P, what’s up mane?
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| What’s up nigga?
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| Man check them niggas out, finna be a millionaire
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| Aww, nigga, shit, it’s all the same, I just got more mothafuckin' weed to smoke
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| and more bitches to dog
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| Yeah, I’m sure you’re right
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| Slingin' them rocks, thwartin' them cops, still on the block
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| Signed a distribution deal that y’all hoes gonna stop
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| Now they bumpin' me, fools can’t be humpin' me
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| I’m like some of you hoes, 'cause I still own my company
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| Still smokin' them trees, scratchin' that leaf, don’t fuck with me
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| A nigga from The Rich but I was born in New Orleans
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| A nigga ain’t humble, nigga fuck it, I’m ready to rumble
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| I’ll still stick these steel toes in your ass and make some fuckin' gumbo
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| Hard, got many stops
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| And I got more fuckin' rhymes in my head than an ant pile
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| You gotta go diss me
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| I’m gonna play the teacher, dot them «I"s mothafucka, cross the «T"s
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| Bustin' rhymes, but y’all niggas want to drop a dime
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| I guess y’all hoes fuckin' mad 'cause I done got mine (big time)
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| Lyrical style with this loc shit
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| Never givin' a fuck about you, or your whole clique
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| Rippin' like them locs, niggas sold the coke
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| Fuckin' them hoes ain’t sluggin' no dope
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| Slangin' these tapes to the world
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| So what the fuck you gotta say ho?
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| So keep my name out your mouth, with this real shit
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| We don’t give a fuck, 'cause P ready to fuckin' kill trick
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| And let you knows what’s the claps, ready to bust some caps
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| And just put The Town on the map
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the fuckin' trigga?
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the fuckin' trigga?
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the fuckin' trigga?
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the fuckin' trigga?
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| Suckin' on fuckin' up game, but still slingin' that cocaine
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| Make more motherfuckin' tongue twistin'
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| And them logs up
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| But niggas can’t talk shit, 'cause y’all ain’t ready bruh
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| I got that killa, in my blood in my veins
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| Fuck it nigga, I’m back in the hood slangin' this cocaine
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| I’m like Calgone, takin' niggas away
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| And if you a baller motherfucker, you better pop open that fuckin' safe
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| I walk around with two fuckin' gats
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| I ain’t trippin' on the Taz, nigga, you know it’s fuckin' like that
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| I got them killas that I roll with
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| King George, Kalli G, C-Murder, and
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| And we on the whole 'nother level
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| Ready to take a nigga, and bury your ass with your own mothafuckin' shovel
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| So if you deep, talk is cheap (talk is cheap)
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| But when you roll through The Town you better watch, you might lose your teeth
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| 'Cause those niggas on the hill don’t give a fuck
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| Shoot a nigga quick and ready to spray your fuckin' house up
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| So when you roll through The Town, you know how it go
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| Easy come in the game, easy mothafuckin' go
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| Don’t check a playa, check your bitch
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| 'Cause if she opens her mouth or open her legs, I’m gonna sure to kick some dick
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| And your bitch must think your mackin' (think your mackin')
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| Ain’t no real niggas goin' to no shit without packin'
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the fuckin' trigga?
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the fuckin' trigga?
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| Walk like a killa, talk like a killa
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| Comin' up out that wild, wild, west, Silkk would be Billy the Kid
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| Ain’t no drive by, face to face as I split that wig
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| Them niggas out that clique, they be mothafuckin' hella scary
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| Teach shit from my pops, so I guess it’ll be hereditary
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| I swear so many niggas be actin' like a mothafuckin' bitch
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| I think God shoulda givin' you niggas pussies, instead of givin' 'em dicks
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| I went rollin' through my hood in that coupe on that gold
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| It ain’t that a nigga be stuntin', I just ain’t scared of none of you hoes
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| And I ain’t trippin' up on that strap that you’re supposed to have
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| Murder 'cause the real niggas get the fuckin'
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| And if you ain’t down with No Limit, you need to bow down
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| Niggas in the back seat, singin' like H-Town |
| 99 ways to live, 1 way to die
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| But when you stop, breathin', you’re dead nigga, that’s when they close your
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| eyes
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| Yeah you walk like that killa, you talk like that killa
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| But do you got the nuts, to kill like that nigga?
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| Like them niggas from that TRU clique? |
| They don’t give a fuck
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| My little nigga, Moby Dick, I think he’ll smoke any one of y’all mothafuckas
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| Mr. Serve-on, bury your own mothafuckin' ass, with your own shovel, bitch
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| You know me and X down for the hoo-ride
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| Sonia C, she’ll spray some shit up, you know Silkk, King George, Cali G,
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| Master P, we’ll make you hoes lay it down in a second
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| Heh, and if you want to be part of that TRU clique, you either need to get beat
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| in, huh, or you gonna have to deal with what’s goin' on
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| 'Cause we all real (real nigga)
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| Gang affiliated, say whatever you want mothafucker
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| You walk like a killa, you talk like a killa
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| But do you really have the balls to squeeze the trigga?
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| Like all them niggas from Richmond, California
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| Yeah bitch, major factor in this rap game
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| If you don’t know, now you know |