| Right about now, Thugs-n-harmony is on a come up
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| So to all you bustas out there, beware
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| Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves
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| Woke up this morning with the thought of robbin' a bank to get rich
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| Ain’t ate in days so it ain’t no thang to click click, bitch, gimme your shit
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| Fresh out the pen, and I’m low on ends, fuck calm, I tried to stay thug
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| Got flowin' skills, but niggas, they bitches, now I just can’t buy my bud
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| With my steel, grabbed the forty-four mag plus a sack
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| And I snag my leather rag, can’t reveal when I glide with the moneybag
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| Ride to the hide, count my flags. |
| I be livin' on the darkside
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| And I can’t escape, some say it’s a phase
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| If it is, only way I’m gonna survive is if I play with my gauge
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| It’s a raid. |
| Put your face to pave
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| If you try to play brave, you’ll get slayed
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| Pull down them shades, empty your pockets, watches, jewels, and you’ll be safe
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| I snatched the clerk up by her neck, put the gun in her mouth and said
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| «Bitch, you better move quick back to the safe
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| If you wanna be killed try some stupid shit
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| And pushin' that panic switch will get you nowhere but hell»
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| Trail to the back with the money in the sack
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| Locked 'em all in the vault, time to bail
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| Well, tickets I’m out the door
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| Hopped in the smug, and I break fast
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| Get to my pad, sit back and laugh, loc’d out as I flip through my cash
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| At last, nigga made good, and I got away smooth
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| Now, I’m straight. |
| Covered my tracks
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| Only description is that nigga with that leather face, fool
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| I gotta get mine, and if you stall, then I’m gunnin'
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| Just work your job, get paid. |
| I’ll rob ya
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| See, a nigga creep on a come up
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| Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves
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| See, I’m sittin' in my room, and a nigga feelin' down
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| Steady thinkin' 'bout how to get paid
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| Gotta gauge at my waist that be spellin' out murder
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| That’ll get a nigga locked the cage
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| Lay my head to bed, start to thinkin' hard, money is the cause
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| What can I do me for? |
| Need to hit a lick, not a bullshit
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| But a real lick, like robbin' a jewelery store
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| Select which one will I raid. |
| Got be headin' downtown
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| Cause tonight’s the night
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| Dressed in my black, wearin' makeup on my face
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| So a nigga can’t be seen in the spotlight
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| Stole two cars, and I parked one north
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| Parked one east for the smooth switch
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| When a nigga bail, how the fuck he gonna tell if a
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| Nigga don’t dwell in the same shit?
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| Climb to the roof, and I’m peepin' out the scene
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| And there’s no one I can spot, so I get my ass down
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| Looked around through the window, and I broke the bitch out with a rock
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| Now I jump my ass in. Start to fillin' up the bag
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| And a nigga comin' up on these diamonds
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| Grabbed a couple herring bones, and some rings
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| And some (brooches), still thinkin' how them diamonds was shining
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| Went to the cash register, broke the bitch open
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| Grabbed all the money they had
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| And a nigga gettin' goin' gone to Bone, yeah
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| Got to let my niggas check out my bag
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| And I got away smooth, cause I had the shit planned
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| And ain’t no bullshit get brung up
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| That’s what I gotta do if I wanna get paid
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| Cause a nigga be creepin' on a come up
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| Stalkin' (gat fools), walkin' jack moves
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| Downin' Jamacian spliffs, little nigga Ripsta on this lick and bang bang
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| Nigga that’s the click on my brain,? |
| another victim insane
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| Feel the murderous nerve
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| This twelve shot pump, and I gotta bigger gat to back me
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| Peelin' in my smug, thug, hoody, black skully, black khakis
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| Creepin' in my smug, so reapin', peek into the window, let me cock this
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| Nigga must’ve been meant to be jacked, cause here comes me hostage
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| Up outta the door, with a pump to her temple, shoulda seen her tremble
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| Push any alarms, and I drop them bombs on moms
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| It’s just that simple. |
| I took my conscience and fried 'em
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| Don’t gimme no hassle, bitch, cause I’ve been scopin' for weeks
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| And I know y’all got some shit
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| Clack back me gun, hollow point mixed with dum-dum kickin'
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| Ladies and babies scream onto the floor
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| («Shut up and listen!») It’s a jack move, fools
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| Give me the jewels, the dope, the weed, the cheese
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| And answer me: why and you hoes is cryin', cause bitches are dyin'?
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| Blood clot, here to be dead what one of them niggas said
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| Buckshots up into them dreads, and I love when I hear them pump red
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| One that callin' me bluff, I stuffed him with the quickness
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| He made out with a smooth thirty G’s
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| So all bodies must bleed, I need no witness
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| So with a me slug, mo thug jumped into him smug, rolled the blunt up
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| Good stuff reefer, hitted the Bone to give up love to my thugs
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| Cause I done made it clean as fuck, and I flees the scene with a buck buck
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| Cause a nigga be creepin' on a come up
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| Stalkin' gat fools, walkin' jack moves |