| Wit' sharks on they fist
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| Young Berner got gills behind his jaws
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| Squares on his hands and feet
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| He’s the big pescado
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| The mothafuckin' envisionado goin' full throttle
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| From the San Francisco sewer to a entrepreneur
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| Poppin' champagne bottles, fuckin' top notch models
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| Hittin' switches on bitches and leavin' snitches in ditches
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| Smokin' cookies by the pound
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| Real niggas love it, suckas frown
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| And if ya can’t swim from town to town
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| You bound to drown
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| And if ya black or brown they tryna lock us down
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| Young Berner from the underground
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| To the top of the mound
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| Where everybody wanna hound and hang around
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| Just know, a ant’ll kick an elephant if he catch 'em down
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| So stay on ya P’s and keys, keep pushin' trees
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| And givin' these streets what they need
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| And the first time a nigga violate, make 'em bleed
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| Impregnate his lips and menestrate his nose
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| And if the violations is egregious
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| Fill 'em full of bullet holes |