| This year is to drop, ten years of calm
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| What we strived, to innovate it, you know what I’m sayin?
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| Four scores and seven years ago
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| The homies that I know figured out, how we can get paid of that gangster flow
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| True in that. |
| breakin' the whores with that Rap shit
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| Fuck that jack shit, benefittin' nothin'
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| Givin' the world a little somethin'
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| My comrades on the block still duckin'
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| Pumpin' the junkies with that Killa Cali'
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| Flippin' a quater to a half, see
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| Bird was the word, they kicked that attitude into the industry
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| I never knew that my Cap was old Chavy
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| I only have fates, and two are my players, Mr. 187Um or Mr. Glock K-Oss
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| Were all you niggas hear our shit?
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| Then other fools came benefit it
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| Believin' in the managers but they were just strangers
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| Didn’t let us know about the paper workin' danger
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| Rules in the land of shiesty, hookers they came fiesty
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| People said. |
| we was on the winnin' team
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| Peelin' the grip, and it wasn’t just a pipe dream
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| And we still chill blowin' that hell of steam
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| So you know shake the spot, because it ain’t right be chillin'
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| Where them hookers and panties be droppin'
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| Got a letter in the mail said the west wasn’t true
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| Sold a million records, so thank you
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| Player hatin, on while we still innovatin, pushin' records across the nation
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| So apocalypse with a pack of the clips
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| Here we got a beef, so I think you better worry
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| Now, I’ma free their minds, and free their souls
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| It ain’t nothin' but the bomb shit comin' on sole
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| Y’all, a little somethin' for them player haters
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| Who think they got flavor like Nam' Laters
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| They’ll get popped, mobbed, dropped
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| Spit out, it’s kind of hard to speak
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| With the tech all in their your mouths
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| We do them just like the old days
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| They got beef with the crew, they got it raised, to get sprayed
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| It’s like that all day, always
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| I’ll be true to this shit 'til my grave
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| Yeah, Gangster Rap made America checked her neck
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| Yo, when change the whole contexts
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| Because, I went from dope dealin' to makin' millions legal
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| Only me and Meegos, yeah, in ten years in makin' notes
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| Still got the same Limo, and got the same Benzo
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| Keep it funky at the gangster bate
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| G’d up, put it down with the gang fate
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| Yeah, it like my mamma used to say:
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| If you go in like that, you’ll go out the same way
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| That’s why I always be myself
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| Cause I get no respect, tryin' to be somebody else
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| And that’s realer than the realist homies I know
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| You might as well patch your face right, rap at the Sight Show
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| Or be a $ 10 whore, cause there ain’t no level allow you just might go
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| Don’t come around, I’ma clown
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| Cause I got more macks than Dann, when I get down |