| — Yo, what’s your name, young blood? |
| What they call you?
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| — Well I got, I got, James, Jimmy or Byron Dean
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| — Yeah, I’ve been feeling that really JD swag lately man
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| Lord Pretty Flacko Jodye stepped up in this piece
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| Bust my Glock to ensure that all you niggas rest in peace (Alright!)
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| Uh, Schwarzenegger I, straight slaughter niggas
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| I’m offin' niggas, screaming off with niggas' heads
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| They all surrender, better call for niggas
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| Come at all you niggas heads, talk 'em off a ledge
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| I’m arguing with 'em, I’m done talking with 'em
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| I order coffins for 'em, call the coroner for 'em
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| Get a comforter for 'em, I did all you niggas' beds
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| I want all you niggas dead (Yeah!)
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| You want oil nigga money, royalness, and bread
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| Royalties instead of rollies for your boys, but loyalty is dead (Grrr! Yeah!)
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| Now I’m only up again
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| Kick… kick a man while he’s down
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| Looks dead; |
| can’t be safe to say it
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| Everybody’s getting punished
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| Looking down to sell with you, how have you been?
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| Probably an undercover, had them undercovers with you
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| People buying and selling for you
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| I’ll only sell with you if you’re blind to sell
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| Lord Pretty Flacko Jodye stepped up in this piece (Booyah!)
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| Bust my Glock to ensure that all you niggas rest in peace (Bop, bop, bop,
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| alright)
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| Rep my block, quick to draw on all you niggas if there’s beef (That's right,
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| booyah!)
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| Blow your spot
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| better pray to Lord this shit don’t hit the streets
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| Jimmy Dean
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| (Alright!) |