| Aiyo, bank rolls, face swolls
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| BD Boys move, cause they know it dollars when I say so
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| Say no, if it ain’t dough, right up front
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| Because you still got haters right up front
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| That’s plottin' on the downfall, creepin' all around y’all
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| As soon as he jump up, I grip that pound sound off
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| Just trynna live this, back bone the business
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| BCC is the click and, y’all can’t get with
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| Nothing them boys spitting
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| Cause y’all like female dogs --- bitches
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| So move when we come through, of course with a gun or two
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| So tell me now, what the fuck niggas gonna do
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| H-E-NN-Y, pissy off shots of Hen', rockin' til I die
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| Nuts I bust off, if I bust off
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| Slugs I bust off, if they want war, what?
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| Up in the club, Top Dog, show me some love
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| I got my game face, gun in the place, blaze the place
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| With that yard weed, you know the god we remember that
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| You know we, ten second rolly, bum on the fat
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| Hey ma, I’m hollerin', trynna see if you swallowin'
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| Hey ma, trynna pick out which ride you hoppin' in
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| I know you wanna ride, come on, let’s roll
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| (Aiyo, I kow you wanna roll, come on, let’s ride)
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| It’s six fifty by the curb, and a fifty ya herb
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| Three sixties by the sixth fifty, that’s by the curve
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| Number six on the throwback, Julius Irv'
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| Pound on 36 indites, for use and observe
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| These niggas steppin' on the scene, MVP’s of the team
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| Steppin' outta Yukon, like Alida Lamine, knawmean?
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| Starang Wondah, pickin' and crips
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| You know me, low key, bitch, lits on the spliff
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| Skinny nigga, I ain’t got no time to exercise
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| Step to guys, motherfuckers lives is jeopardized
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| Y’all recognize
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| Yeah, we dead in the hood, but not dead in the hood
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| You know your boys boys, credit line is good
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| Can’t afford to see your step, got torned, same as the lords
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| Sip clubs and smoke purple, like we won the playoffs
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| No matter what you go through
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| We gonna stick gonna together
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| Got on my Timb boots, car hard jeans too
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| Bulletproof vehicle, that’s how we steam through
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| Ten to twenty niggas deep with me, muggs rollin' the drugs
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| Bouncers wanna throw us out, but we ain’t givin' a fuck
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| I’m 3 star general, who you?
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| Cowards wanna disrespect the God, screw you
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| Bet if I put the Smif-N-Wess', and to ya head and squeeze it
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| Kill all the beef, and send you to meet Jesus
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| Say y’all, rappers, can hate on
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| Waiting on my down fall, mad cause we stay strong
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| Most record labels too scared to deal with some real shit
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| Bet they all ride the dick when they feel this
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| Duck Down, bitch, you in Bucktown
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| Little homey playin' big man and got struck down
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| Ain’t near motherfucker safe in this game we walkin'
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| Puttin' in work, til I’m layed in the coffin
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| Play hard strong, scrape y’all, thing on my waste y’all
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| Face off, BC, every thing we been through we still together
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| Keep sons on the block, guess to dead ya
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| Roll with me, ride with me
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| You can get dissed til ya side, or side with me
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| Whether it’s raw or it’s cooked beef, we serve fiends
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| Proteins in our hooks and beats, from the snow to the streets
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| Skeets of the rain, feet in the games
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| And every nigga eatin' the same, I can’t quit
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| Drama then we handle it, cause any man’ll flip with no prob'
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| Wanna play ball? |
| Get ya squad
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| My shit is for niggas behind bars, who do crime
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| Do time, and do time hard, play the yard
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| Lift heavy, get ready for the massacre
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| We came a long way after ya, I see them niggas gashin'
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| Cause, you really ain’t half the thug
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| You just an average nigga flappin' for love
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| Hey ma, I’m hollerin', trynna see if you swallowin'
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| You trynna pick out which ride ya hoppin' in
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| I know you wanna roll, come on, let’s ride
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| I know you wanna ride, come on, let’s roll |