| Yaw.
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| Feel this, feel this baby.
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| Uh, yaw, yaw.
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| Aiyyo y’all wanna talk dough? |
| I make you Limp like Bizkit
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| Pimps get twisted, turn simpletistic
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| Hustlers y’all been please helped, toast 'em and the cheese melt
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| Fuck wearing a seatbelt, better wear your heatbelt
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| When I blaze my private iron, you get dying like Saving Private Ryan
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| Momma crying, slugs flying
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| See we tote techs and broke necks
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| Shoot up a party then we jump behind the coat-checks
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| Who to your belong is, then we out, ??? |
| a G
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| I’m just like? |
| Bodymonster?, growing while you sleep, flowing while I speak
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| Giving corrosion, while y’all niggas is ruff riders
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| When Brooklyn straight Trojans
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| My first LP? |
| Cream from the beginning
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| Y’all just like Marl Berry, drop thirty, what y’all team ain’t winning
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| Like Gren Cook, went with the hook
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| Went with the jooks, all my men are crooks
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| Word to momma Snooks
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| Yaw, beat don’t fail me now
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| Show my glory, tell a story only hear in jail
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| Heat don’t fail me now
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| All that talk, we ain’t with it, anybody can get it
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| Feeds don’t fail me now
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| In the hood running like a beast, getting chased by police
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| You freaks can’t tell me how
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| I stay creeping on a weekend, bags stay sweaking
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| Police wanna statch niggas, 'cause we strong on stretch niggas
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| Like Brook-'Nam vet niggas
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| Not Slim Shady but Grim Grady, ever since the mid-eightie
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| Everything I did was crazy, sexing white girls looking Bo Derrick Ahada
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| 'Cause I get chips like I’m Erica Shrada, dunn-da-da
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| Communicate like beat with the cellies
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| Pulling sleepers in tellies, sleep deeper than Porelli’s
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| Credentials here, Diamond-dental still here, mental still here
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| DJ still here, folks spoke clear, rims pope with the glitter
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| Y’all better get ready is not a joke this year
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| When they miss me, 'cause what I bake make cornbread taste like cake
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| Icecream-cake,? |
| with cream and ice, my team is nice
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| Y’all don’t trouble me or trouble P
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| Y’all actors like on double U-P
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| Yeah. |
| four years later music more greater
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| Yaw what that? |
| What that, y’all can’t touch that
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| It’s still Blahzay. |
| y’all Blahzay
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| Y’all ain’t Blahzay, y’all better cop that Blahzay |