| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| And throw your sets up nigga
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| Gang bang, bang bang
|
| We keep long gats and big chains
|
| I don’t like havin sex, I like brains
|
| And smoke some spliff, fans wit five in the range
|
| And it’s, nuthin for me, and shit on your three
|
| I’m from Iraq, twenty minutes from Q.B.
|
| I aim you, so you should just let us be Or find yourself shot up, in the hospati
|
| You be leakin, and Dole in ya face, some hot tea
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| Yo it’s Nore, but you can call me P.O.P.
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| And getta dose of the dope, but dope is so deep
|
| Only white girl I’ll fuck, is Pamela Lee
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| And I’m gangsta, so some niggas call me G Melvin Flynt, hustlin was born in me So yo bitch, come and do a porn wit me Or come to North Carolina and perform wit me We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Yo, yo, yo
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| I’ma take it back to when I used to pop pistals
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| Sling crystal, gamble on the block with pits out
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| Kept my work in bitch house, right in the closet
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| I won’t front I’ll bring the drama nigga, right to the projects
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| When it’s cold, I remain the hottest
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| I bring the thug niggas, is you booshi?
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| I leave blood, all in your protis
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| Niggas life styles deserve Oscars, you so funny
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| Claim you kingpin — and ain’t even fuckin wit hoe money
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| I’m gangsta, been in jail once, check my records
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| I keep the stash grip wit arma, before I select my weapons
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| This young mind state, crime infested, I’ma get straight to the message
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| I spit records, and rep my necklace
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| Do the dog want beef? |
| Right where the steps is I walk the hood, niggas pay homage cause of my essence
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| It ain’t nuthin, I catch any charge, get out on bail
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| Fuck record, this shit was platinum when it touched the reel
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| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
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| Hot damn hoe, here we go again
|
| Pop shit like a cock, +Lyte+ weight as your +Rocks+, bitch
|
| You talk slick, fuck is all that sneak shit?
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| Y’all kill me with that subliminal shit, bitch
|
| Why’s you frontin and kickin that street shit?
|
| Please, impress me, go back to that freak shit
|
| While your broke-ass was guzzlin nuts and shit
|
| I was choppin the weights, Linc and Oldz’s and shit
|
| A decoy bitch, like the Feds lyin
|
| Ain’t you supposed to have a little bitta Bed-Stuy in ya?
|
| Brooklyn don’t raise hoes, just slip, and graze hoes
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| What bitch? |
| You’re soft and your pussy name hoes
|
| So fuck ya niggas too, them niggas can get it too
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| Them faggots act more bitch then you
|
| Let the nigga rest in peace, and hop off his dick, bitch do you
|
| And ya’ll hoes is like Fuck Fox, well screw ya’ll too
|
| Let’s be truthful, give a fuck if your album push back
|
| Or when it hit the streets, bitch, you’re still weak
|
| You still sound lame and my name still reign
|
| I still pop them thing things, and bang bang, bitch, rep for ya hood
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| We gon thug this shit out
|
| And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
|
| Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang |