| Ayo, pause your pencils
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| As hollow tips get in you
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| Bots cutting to slice your face you
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| Rhymes is natural
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| Hold two lives and four wives
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| Up in the crack capsule
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| Flipmode cruddy styles has been past you
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| Rush pass
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| You couldn’t touch cash
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| If it was under your nose
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| Like a mustache
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| Nigga
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| What ass
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| Show your whole cheek
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| Slugs with no heat
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| Diamonds that don’t break
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| You thugs is so sweet
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| I float so much I get seasick
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| Flipmode is the Squad who I bees with
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| Who I get plucks with
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| And push German V’s with
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| Rampage I’m psychic I can see shit
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| 'Til the next millennium
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| You not gon be shit
|
| Scratch your name off the list
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| Cut your wrist
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| You know the issue
|
| I’m official
|
| When you die none of your niggas is really gon miss you
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| Flipmode Squad, here to drop bombs
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| Against all odds, still remain gods
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| Grup your arm, we always come hard
|
| The world is ours, call a National Guard
|
| Here we go
|
| Any bitch that rhyme wanna flex she ass
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| I’m stomping all things like I’m plexi-glass
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| Niggas make way like when they hear sirens
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| Treat you like parking too close to fire hydrants
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| All up in the board
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| Kicking back long islands
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| Get your wig split first solid defiance
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| Rah Earth and sun in this Imperial alliance
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| You do the science
|
| I’m getting money shitting, turn intruders into vixens
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| Fall off beeper uh-uh niggas stay getting
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| Dirty nigga for life
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| That’s how Spliff’s living
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| Throwing niggas in caskets
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| Tired of a yellow ribbons
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| I buck my duck if you touch my one
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| Rather Jamaican than belly boy make you people for fun
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| Fat Man’s Son, street educated
|
| The colonel of ghetto jurors, still thug related
|
| Flipmode Squad, here to drop bombs
|
| Against all odds, still remain gods
|
| Grup your arm, we always come hard
|
| The world is ours, call a National Guard
|
| We enemies of three strike felony laws
|
| Gorilla dicking K-Y jelly for whores
|
| Lapdances trap grands without laws
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| My baby moms, three eighty for your arms
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| That bust with loud force
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| The ghetto with us
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| That bang Makaveli in trucks
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| That whatever the fuck to give a cheddar in chunks
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| Fugazi chains
|
| Fake thugs with lazy aid
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| Track marks
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| Rap stars
|
| And a raid of aids
|
| Yo, what you want from us
|
| Now visualize more of us
|
| Stay toting under my given flavor from Nauticas
|
| Destroy every arch-rival or any challenger
|
| Make you remember this day
|
| Nigga mark it on your calendar
|
| I’m showing you something
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| You ain’t saying nothing
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| My niggas make noise
|
| Like a bunch of volcanoes erupting
|
| None of y’all niggas really wanna war
|
| The type of nigga to crash my plane in your building
|
| In the name of Allah
|
| Flipmode Squad, here to drop bombs
|
| Against all odds, still remain gods
|
| Grup your arm, we always come hard
|
| The world is ours, call a National Guard |