| Seems never, no hesitation for my frustration
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| I feel the years that i’m facin', so it’s here money track, i’m lacin'
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| With that Gothic lifestyle that i’m used to, voodoo,
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| Bent back with a bag of gumby and the hindu.
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| Twelve playas, way, beyond control
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| Lookin’for two or three bustas that done sold they soul
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| See my name is K.M.G. |
| (Whoop whoop), do ya know me?
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| I think ya lightweight like your see-through homies
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| Hold this, while I smoke this, make you focus on the pistol &the chrome
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| And the homie fly as, California born.
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| We shake down, at the Calabasas home,
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| And when we throw a gathering, ohh baby it’s on.
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| See we, shake off the bustas, we got the cops checkin',
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| Come down on imitators with they fake jail records.
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| Yea, we use our method, our soul searching method,
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| And when we on the block after dark you might catch it.
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| Disrespected? |
| Never that. |
| Cali West Coast bellin',
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| Check out all my homies with they colors (Blue and red, much love)
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| Mi amigos, I got my homies daring ya,
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| Moody lifestyle mid from the Bay Area.
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| We like anderson, come ask for free,
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| Soul searching with that nigga K.M.G, (K.M.G.)
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| Soul searching with that nigga K.M.G. |
| homie, (K.M.G.)
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| You don’t wanna fuck with me…
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| Why can’t you see the light?
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| (Yukmouth)
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| Nigga, I was raised in a house full of dope fiends,
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| Admiring ballers who sold cream, my street dream
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| Like Nas, mansion and four car garage,
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| Keep trust in God with mob niggas in my enterouge.
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| You see that’s why could be for broads,
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| I learned that from my pops when we used to mob the eldora-do,
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| Through the muthafuckin’projects, I guess it’s in my blood,
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| Sometimes it seems like i’m next, to be a thug.
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| And end up selling drugs like my father,
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| Or like my partner on the block, man, when I holler, squattin impalas
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| Slanging rocks, man, it don’t stop,
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| Keeping the glock up in the cut cuz niggas know I, get sho’stopped
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| For yo bread, niggas drop dead, of hot lead,
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| Shot him up that’s what the cops said, a code red
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| Call the muthafuckin ambulance,
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| Could’ve ran but then again he never had a chance,
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| For soul chasing… |