| I been thuggin’since my adolescents
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| All of my homies and peers tucked in the killers
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| And pimps perfectin’their profession
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| Never confessin', or tellin’when they police possession
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| Snitches and bitch ass niggas pleadin’police protection
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| We turn the globe till the day we die (die)
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| Spinnin’the world on my finger like Alan Eye
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| Cali’s finest, real motherfuckers fo’sure
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| And they don’t make real niggas like us no mo'
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| It’s a rare breed, I been thuggin’since eighty-five (five)
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| At the age of fifteen, yeah my draws hella high
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| With a thirty-eight snub (snub) bangin’on other pushers (pushers)
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| I even had the t-a-tech nine in the bushes
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| But now I’m pushin’Cali trucks and six hundreds
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| stand blunted, givin’slugs to niggas who got it comin'
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| We ain’t ridin’for nothin'(shit) they don’t front forever thuggin'
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| Suckers cross the game and suffer the re-percussions
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| (Chorus: Kokane)
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| Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go
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| (Tray Deee)
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| I’ma start mine checkin’with the hard time records
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| Lower class known to mash born to blast any second
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| It’s that criminal, original, Tray Deee the imperial
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| Gangsta’s spit anger through your motherfuckin’stereo
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| Dogghouse style with the chucks and curl
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| Off a bottle with my motto strictly fuck the world
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| As I bust a pearl and the chrome at your cranium
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| Whoever get wounded shoulda knew where I was aimin’them
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| Haulin’out the set fingers seen on my neck
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| But no comin’fourth to court cause my team is on deck
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| Insane to the fullest with the bullets to prove
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| Ninety-nine point nine per cent of you can’t stand in my shoes
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| I gang bang for a hobby, murder, robbery and kidnap
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| And gettin’in my business, point this way you can get clapped
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| Now sit back and peep gangsta’s fool
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| Now sit back and peep gangsta’s fool
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| (Chorus: Kokane)
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| Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go
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| (Spice 1)
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| Teflon and clutsey glass, S-Class and escalade
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| Forty-five, calacoals, jewels and french braids
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| Niggas mean mug, I’m in the nature of a thug
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| Finna room to a tomb we boss playin’and blowin’blood
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| It’s West Side mental, extra mash is my mentality
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| Niggas bite the bullet and end up with chest cavaties
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| Gradually fo'-fo'gon'make niggas define gravity
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| Got one foot in the grave and I feelin’my angels grabbin’me (damn)
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| Stablishly vicious up in the game
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| Seen a lot of raw and uncut shit up in these sterets mayn
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| «I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto»
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| Pac died in ninety-six and I still can’t let go My fallen soldiers, love you niggas for stayin’real
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| I hope you see me thuggin’still rollin’with heat of steel (steel)
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| But it don’t stop (stop), money, hoes I’m still rushin'
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| Still high as fuck, still heat and still bustin'
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| (Chorus: Kokane)
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| Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go Thuggin’makes the world go, around and round
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| And around… mayn, thuggin’makes the world go |