| I infect the whole set and collect the cash
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| And I’m gon' run game but respect the past
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| Got long range ain’t trippin, let’s flip it to into small change
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| Then kick it parlay
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| Exchangin' back to back rhymin'
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| Word play but late (?) for the studio timin'
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| And can’t wait for the hate and feedback
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| I snap (skat) when I break down the weed in my rap
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| I was born about eight miles in the city of dope
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| Meanin' my city is the city of dope
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| Weigh the coke, Caddy spokes, you couldn’t be saved by John the Pope
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| Money is the bible, couldn’t care about a idol
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| If you’re goin' for the title than it’s kinda suicidal
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| Cause you’re gonna have a rival that’s bustin' at your door
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| Tryin' to put bullet holes up in your clothes!
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| Oh ho, fa sho we can blow some mo'
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| While labels fall short to the ocean flo' (suckas)
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| I get pesky (?) like Joe Pesci’s
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| I drop hefty rhymes on all MC’s
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| Suckas that wanna play too cute, execute the play (?) off loose I execute
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| On site you’re too hype, you might get snatched
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| Just like your gold chain and no name raps
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| Homie don’t ask me about that chick
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| Because about any chick I plead the fifth
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| Call me Saint Nick when I spit the gift, real rap cat on a pirate ship
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| Lock and chain like Sid Vicious, I done used my three wishes
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| When it come to swishers, cut the heart
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| Listenin' to Al Green in the dark
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| Jumped in the ride with the leather coat
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| Looked in the rear view, who pops the (?)
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| Just when I thought that I saw a ghost, I realized it was the indo smoke
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| Your last hope is shootin' at me like the Pope
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| I campaign the (?) to vote is unanimous
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| Smokin' cannabis, put 'em in a camel clutch (?)
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| Like this, can’t trip when I get across
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| Set it off, lay 'em down with no second thoughts
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| Impulsin, indo indulgin, keep blowin, Falcon and the Snowman
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| Tiga my raps, are just like a diamond heist
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| Cause the way I shine you might lose your sight
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| In my brand new Phat Farm vest, new kango Polo, no less
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| Grab the cream, get your team who …(?)
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| In ya face, cocksucka, it’s a new regime
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| You’re out again but it really don’t matter
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| Had it with the new improved police scanner
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| Hang the banners, yo cock the hammers
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| Or forever in life you’ll wear a Pamper
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| It was pivotal when you (?) pitiful answers
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| Rhymes are avalanchin' the average rapper
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| You’re sweatin, then goin' all out representin'
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| You’re in and out steppin' like 3−5-7
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| I kept it honest, promise, no threatin'
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| You’re probably (?), if not forgettin'
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| I stepped in the house, throwback with the (?)
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| Excused the fool, but hold back with the hatin'
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| Check it crack the bottle, then crack the whip
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| Yo here go a slug that’ll crack ya hip
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| I’m like an angel, but at an angle
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| And then I start to talk like Marlon Brando, like that
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| Blow back in my crocka sack
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| To the Benz dealer that the Cadillac is back
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| I had to turn (?) Moonshine into yak
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| And then the ATF wanna come raise the track
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| I connive with more drive then multiply chedda
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| I can see the fortune without the teller
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| Cut back the raw rap and release the classic
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| Suckas that jaw jap but I look past 'em
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| I get detailed just (?) and graphic
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| Practice the graph 'till I’m knowin' it backwards
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| Spit it with a passion, …(?)
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| The I release the masters, study the game
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| Okay, I hit the night skies with the ruby red eyes
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| The streets are hurtin, I can hear her cries
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| Freaks wear shoes that’s not their size
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| And here come Nicky with the felony rhyme
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| And the melody crime, can you crack the case?
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| Like a bat outta hell as I start to race
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| Scars on my face, dictate the hate
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| Get a scale for the rhyme when I push the weight |