| How many wanna play now? |
| It get dark wit the shades
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| Down, you know Slay and Black paid now
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| Niggas, see we be thugged out, 2 deep
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| Muthafuckas betta stay out the way now, that foolishness
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| I’m tellin you yo crew could get hit wit dem tools and clips
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| Fuck who you get, you and that fool you wit, gone get yo wig split
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| Black guns, me and my doggs clap guns, don’t be thinkin we jus rappin
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| You saw what would happen, gun blastin
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| Squeezin off til I’m the last one
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| You gone ride — Take It Outside
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| You gone die — Take It Outside
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| You gone cry — Take It Outside
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| Take It Outside, Take It Outside
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| Now if you wanna ride or die, then try
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| But let me get high so that my mind can fly
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| Because I’m just that kinda guy, people wonder why
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| I’m so violent, because the N.L. |
| move in silent
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| In other words, I creep creep, put you to sleep sleep
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| 187 will be yo last beep beep
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| I bring that N.O. |
| heat heat, to the streeets
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| Toe tag yo feet, yo feet
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| I treat ya like a prostitute, and fuck ya up
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| A roughneck nigga that’ll ruff ya up
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| Like a quick car wash, I’ll touch ya up
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| Cause I look at ya’ll like sittin ducks
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| Boy don’t you understand that I’m the man
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| Wit the plan, wit beacoup benjamins and alotta ghetto fans
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| At first you was tellin me to keep it trill
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| But now they know T-R-U is real
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| One hundred and eighty seven percent
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| I remember when my pockes were full of lent
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| All my real niggas like next to kin
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| So testin me is like testin them, now what!
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| I guess it’s buck ya’ll time
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| I guess it’s time for the second line
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| My last cd was «Trapped in Crime»
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| So you already know what’s on my mind
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| What What
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| Say I had 16 bars
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| How many muthafuckas can drive 16 cars
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| Go up in the club, thuggin, and pull 16 broads
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| Take em home, and fuck em all in 16 minutes
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| (haha they don’t know)
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| Muthafuckas you ain’t heard of me, Alotta them niggas
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| From Desire be, on the side of N-O L-I-M-I-T
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| Or T-R-U, wit Slay Sean and C, peep game dude
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| Who can spit it better than me?
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| Ever seen a nigga chest blown (chest blown)
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| Eventhough he gotta vest on (vest on)
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| Nigga walk up to yo dogg witta dress on
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| And start spittin some shit, that’ll split you at the
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| Chest bone (chest bone)
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| You fuckin wit the wrong click
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| We gotta army of niggas who don’t give a fuck who u
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| Run wit bitch, get cha wig split
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| Think it’s a game, but it ain’t, Black Felon, Slay
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| Sean, and C
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| Bustin on some of that T-R-U shit
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| Nigga take it outside, I was born to represent
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| Tru niggas gotta keep it thugged to roll wit this chick
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| Catch me in the cut, G' Nikes, bandana’d up
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| Mean mug on my grill, Like I dont give a fuck
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| Who want what, they get stuck
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| I don’t play around, in the back akin buck wit both
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| Arms up, and around my hand, Tru Records wristband
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| Understand the game cold but got colder when it met me
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| I came to put it down, put ya face where ya chest be
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| And I don’t run, it’s the same place where you met me
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| Slay Sean, Black, and C my click, so don’t sweat me
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| I get up in yo face, nigga, so don’t test me
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| Hard to get at me, but try ya luck
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| I make niggas stutter and I leave em stuck
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| When this track come on, watch em all get buck
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| Traci just represented is you warin or what? |