| Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
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| Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
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| Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
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| Shoot, shoot, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up
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| Twelve gauges bust up in ya, playa haters we be quick to pin ya
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| You know we know, you don’t wanna roll
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| Cause when we give it to ya, we’re gonna bring it to ya, oh yeah
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| Right off the jump, ooh, now I gots to let you know
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| When you see me runnin' rollin' with them big shotguns,
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| And we deep when we creep, never sleepin'
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| And we droppin' them whamies on fools who wanna get dumb and numb
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| Now, that you know like that
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| These niggas come around, they don’t know how to act
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| In fact, I’m at the track in the back
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| With a couple of my cats in the hood, smokin' weed and up to no good
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| Red Dog in the trunk, and we rollin' that
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| Bang or slang, now bail on over to your thugs
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| So me and the rest of these thugs can marinade, marinade
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| We straight, get high, so high,
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| That’s how my mental, that’s how my mental state is like parlay, parlay
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| Like everyday, don’t think I don’t pin playa hation
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| But ya better pinnin' yourself, or contend with the M-11,
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| .357 Automatic weapons from my shelf
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| These niggas wanna take my health and wealth
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| Check yourself, tryin' to contend, but they couldn’t win
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| You took it to the head with a fifth of Hen
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| Now we in a red 500 Benz-o, we roll, roll
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| Drop the top, and lock the locks, cock the glock
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| Bout to hit this corner, livin' like a thug on the real
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| Who’s stronger when I put it on ya, on ya, all playa haters goners
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| Murder, mo murder, mo murder, mo murder them all
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| They fall, they fall buck buck, oh yeah
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| Niggas they get it then pissed off
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| And ah, and ah to fuck with the wrong motherfuckers
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| They fall (quick) when we buck, bitch, ooh
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| We got something to put you back into your truck quick
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| Hey, that four-four magnum, gon' handle em'
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| Ain’t no nigga badder, .357 put that ass on the mat
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| Execution, I’ll be shootin' while you runnin' off at your mouth
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| You plot me cause you watch me, watch me, watch me
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| My nigga, we know what ya thinkin'
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| Bout, but bitch, if you run up and try me
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| I’m comin' up outta my shit with some shit
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| That be keepin' you runnin' and wonderin'
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| What have I got to make sure they lit him up good
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| And you can still find me, where (You know we no bullshit)
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| East 99, drug dealers and po-po, yeah that’s St. Clair
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| Bone runnin' back to Mo', and that’s Cleveland, Cleveland
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| You know we thuggin' and theivin', theivin'
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| If somebody got beef, we got millions done made
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| I rollin' thug records for ya, see my nigga
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| We comin' with nothin' to lose and bitch, if ya try me
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| (Any bodies) All those bloody bodies, tryin' to get outta the room
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| If I could just look up and see haters dyin', I’n I’n,
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| And flip up my mind and whenever you think I’m quiet
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| I get plots on the riot riot bang
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| That’s way ya get em' man, get 'em, man, get 'em, man
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| Sneak up on em' and you kill em' and they won’t fuck with ya no more
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| You havin' a party, and the weed goin' up in your body
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| Smokers chill, my niggas done got get me sloppy high, oh so so high.
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| Come on, come on, don’t be shy
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| Let’s get high
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| We got that herb
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| If you want some, want some
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| We got weed indeed, you need some, need some
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| Ah, yeah I know this just might sound crazy
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| But lately gotta roll with my gun
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| Cause the haters they hate me
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| Wanna hurt that nigga, Bone, niggas somehow, someway get paid
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| And quit playa hatin'
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| That buck to the bang, everything I got, I got 'cause we rhyme
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| Tight rhyme, Had to thug it out, but it came in time, just in time
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| And if you give it to me, my thugs gon' give it you
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| So either way we go about this goes, somebody’s head gon' get blown
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| Bone gon' on with your bad self, now hey, hey, hey
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| Blowin' up your face with your pistols
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| And get with that buck to the bang, bang, bang
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| Nigga wanna roll with Bone, it’s on, cause nigga, we cool, we cool
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| Don’t forget, playa haters get that buck to the bang
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| All up in that body, got him, got him
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| We won’t be slippin', we just might be peepin' you all the time |
| I’m comin', I’m gunnin' and I put that on the double nine
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| Shoot em' up always, hate when I break you off and you loss
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| And make it look to floss
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| Let there be coffins for all of your offspring
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| Now let there be coffins for all of your offspring
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| For the police on the corner, creepin' up
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| Here come them soldiers pullin' up
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| Better watch one of them St. Clair niggas
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| Put it in a gutter, better off and doze ya
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| Really know ya shouldn’t have let me jumpin' up out your shit
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| You runnin' with a gang of bitches for you
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| Ready when I’m ready to do it you
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| It in my thang but a buck, buck is small change
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| It’s off in ten to say that they niggas was bullshittin'
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| And the Bizzy maintain, nigga this the North Coast homie
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| That city where the St. Clair niggas sell dope
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| I hear police roll deep in the set, see none of us scared
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| And we show that it’s on, bitch, bang
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| You feel the pitch of my trigger finger’s a bitch
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| I done put it down with my click, and stood on my own,
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| And kill flesh and I rest on the nine
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| I’ll be fuckin' with y’all, slangin' my dogs
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| And em' all niggas been anxious lil' Bizzy, but it’s all good
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| I still ball, and I know when ya roll
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| I’m snatchin' your souls with the Bone
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| We can show it, and since I’m a flow, and it’s all of y’all realer
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| My niggas, I figured I’d let 'em all know it
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| Playas takin' up off the style, well, if you think I’m scared
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| You, dead wrong, did you think when I break you down. |