| Straight from the gate, I’m gassin'
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| Dribblin', not from glasses
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| Hackin', I’m not gon' pass
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| Foul, get an elbow to match it
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| Settle the racket, sit at the bottom and lay
|
| Just like the ship in a bottle, that’s the model they face
|
| Never satisfied but that ain’t my problem at all
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| Next time you scream in my ear I’ma holla at y’all
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| Funk Pippen, best thing is to follow the law
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| Or swallow your jawbone and charge it to God
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| (YEP) They done got me mad
|
| That’s fine, they gon' find a home in each bar I have
|
| Fuck they demands, tell the hostages
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| That’s too much to give up, I don’t want ‘em then
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| I’m calmer then, that’s the stormy weather
|
| That’s when I rain on you poor little ornery beggars
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| Fisticuffs just ain’t the move
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| They too feeble, get a gun for safety use
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| They off a little
|
| It’s like trading a yacht for a box of Skittles
|
| It’s not no riddle, I don’t joke around
|
| Why, when it’s so many jokers to go around?
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| Choose one, new sons, who’s dumb
|
| Actions get ‘em slapped so tough they IQ grew some
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| Funk Pippen the legendary
|
| Fuck treasure, X marks the spot where heads is buried
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| The cemetery but without a body
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| Detached just like a bat defiled by Ozzy
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| I don’t know why I put up with fools
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| They feel they indestructible but self-combustible
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| In other words, they the enemy within
|
| Get incinerated whenever they finna be a bitch
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| They got something to say, then let it be known
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| They got a bone to pick, I prefer breaking bones
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| I know some kung-fu
|
| Tiger style, crane style, they gon' get pummeled
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| Down, down, left, left punch
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| That shit’s fire all around, send ‘em jettison
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| Floatin' away—now where they go?
|
| Laser scope be sure to spot Waldo
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| I bomb hoe ass niggas and leave ‘em scorchin'
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| Grand prize, nothing, fuckin' with the Wheel of Fortune |