| I’ll murder you… you…and you
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| Don’t give a fuck about you. |
| you…
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| It’s Thugged Out Entertainment nigga
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| Straight like that
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| We cut, shoot, stab, sell crack
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| Straight like that
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| We eat, sleep, shit street life
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| Straight like that
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| We get knocked bail the same night
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| Straight like that
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| We gettin bitches, bitches, money, money, basically
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| There ain’t no kissin, we just fuckin honeys, basically
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| You see y’all snitchin niggas talkin funny, basically
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| Me and my niggas is known to keep it ugly, basically
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| I’m off Beezlebub, I walk wit the mac in my sweats
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| Air forces, wife beater, fitted cap to the left
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| My chain hang 35 inches, my heat 7 and a quarter
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| Beard 8 and a third, and my piece be Orca
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| There’s no need for peace offers, my niggas be shootin, we riot
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| We run the streets quiet, cuz the law’s biased
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| Skip the battles back in 86, now niggas tattle, chop crazy bricks
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| Cop new kicks, quick to say they rich
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| Fantasize and flatten the hills, for niggas in ghettos
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| Its crack, bullets that kill, dreams are fulfilled
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| Murders, ink in cold blood, holdin grudges for years
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| I keep two bitches, two hot biscuits, four dot sixes
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| The sorrow to swallow, I follow my motto
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| Squeeze first, since the day I slung, ready rockin a bottle
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| I stand and deliver like Edward Olmos, wet whatever
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| Respect whatever, I talk with a tech forever
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| Our show’s at your service on behalf of Final Chapter
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| ? |
| I’m not a rapper, quick to slap ya
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| Got scheme, its not a factor, we gotta shine first
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| Have 'em coppin your album just for our verse
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| Straight like that, y’all better tell 'em
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| I hope they don’t act like we won’t smack to back of their cerebellum
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| Oh and did I mention? |
| if I feel tension
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| Get the full arm extension, get the whole block’s attention
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| I know you keep your life in your cash
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| Your cash in the stash, stash in the car, car in the lot
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| So when I blow up the lot: BOOM: your whole shit stop
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| Y’all rappers is backwards, make the game flip flop
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| I’ll take you to the spot with no witnesses and no cops
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| Better have your Glock out and cocked, about to pop
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| To hustlers like Flynt, sellin cracks like Sprint
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| A dime a minute, now roll the dice, five in it
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| Aiyyo, aiyyo
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| I peeped your true colors while y’all niggas was blinded
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| I been down and spit a pound before you knew I was rhymin
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| You know me, illest flow, ain’t no seconds for timing
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| My sixteens’ll rip through beats, cut deeper than diamonds
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| Make ya niggas start to worry cuz my hood is dark and blurry
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| When shots flurry, niggas point guard like Marbury
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| Ain’t no arguing, all my click’ll do is get the targeting
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| Final Chapter split pies in two, its half bargaining
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| I’ve seen you niggas come up quick and then fall
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| I’ve seen you frontin for your broad like her pussy’s the bomb
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| Clowns findin their stash gone but my cash is long
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| So I’mma let y’all pass on, cuz you ass like a thong
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| My click is movin out, now is you rollin along?
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| Til I perish I’m spittin strong, it’s that shit that I’m on
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| Final Chapter’s comin at ya, now the drama is born
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| Settle in this street life from the hoods to the lord
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| Aiyyo I’m still ghetto, that’s why these niggas love me
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| I’m still on the run eatin so I got chubby
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| I spaz up in the Tunnel, stab niggas with pens
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| That’s why til this day they don’t let me in
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| I be in New York smokin LA weed
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| I hate a bitch named Pebbles like LA Reed
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| I dead niggas like Pac and BIG, blocks to live
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| These niggas can’t eat like hostages
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| Fuck Camry’s and fuck Honda Accords
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| I rob niggas like the Crips at the Source Awards
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| And everything that went down was cool with me
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| As long as I came back with my jewelry
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| We had machine guns, I think we had two or three
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| And two or three limos, me and my nigga Timbo
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| For bitches that suck nuts and spit it out the window
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| You know my tempo, like Bloody Money 3 |