| Son I zone, my gun is never on safety
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| I copped the new Jordan’s, the white ones wit skate key
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| {Me, I’m just chillin Pop, serving my time
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| Got my greens on, these faggots ain’t deservin a shine}
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| And yeah, while I’m home you like livin abroad
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| I heard those crackers dissed you, smack you at the board
|
| {When twenty-four, they did the same to Norman and Lord
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| Heard you cop the silver GS, my nigga you scored}
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| Yea, it’s nuthin, cause I’m gettin bread
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| Crack is dead, bitches wanna give me head
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| {You's a funny nigga, I just saw Kai in the yard
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| He said holla, when you getta chance, scribe the God
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| Tell Kai I said what up, and his sister is grown
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| I copped the four-fifth auto, it’s pretty with chrome
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| {The day I come home, I need a mink and a brand new Mac
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| A few jump offs, some Dom’s, some beer, and the crack}
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| I’m outside on the streets, just holdin it down
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| I’m in the studio, droppin sixteen’s wit hooks
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| I’m in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks
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| I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June
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| {My little dun gangstas, caught in blood beef with the Kings
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| You know Jarome brotha, my dun I used to creep wit in Queens}
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| And dat’s my dun too, so I’mma find out now
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| And have my dogs on the Island, just get on the prawl
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| {On the other side of things, I’m tryin to get released
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| Around my born day, but a nigga keep in beef wit da beast}
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| Fuck the police, cause all of dem niggas is fake
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| Don’t lose your C.R., son you’ll get your open date
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| {Dun, I’mma see ya regardless
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| Cause I got two violent felony charges}
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| And you know your appeal is progress
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| And we gon keep this tight
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| I keep your commisary phat, I’mma keep you right
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| {I got the chronic stashed in a coffee carton and kicks
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| Good lookin for the bitches butt-naked and the flicks}
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| And you ain’t gotta thank me, real niggas do real things
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| I keep freak hoes, they really do ill things
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| I’m outside on the streets, just holdin it down
|
| I’m in the studio, droppin sixteen’s wit hooks
|
| I’m in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks
|
| I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June
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| I used to be ugly, now these bitches is Medusa
|
| And guess what? |
| I made you executive producer
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| Some extra G’s, so when you come home you breathe
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| {They won’t believe to see me come home to a V
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| Pigs pressin me, want autographs for they seeds
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| I gotta C.O. |
| thinkin that we gon fuck when I leave}
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| Yo nigga think about this money, fuck them hoes
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| We gonna throw a pounda weed out, at one the shows
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| Spread it out, in the crowd, see them niggas get wild
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| Capone home, niggas still diggin our style
|
| {Shit is foul, how these crackers tryin to keep me confined?
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| I gotta visit last week and saw Gremlin Divine}
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| Meet Timbo and Ice, got bent and rolled dice
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| Scooped, ridin loose, then we headed to Post
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| And got some hydro-weed and we had our toast
|
| {Son there’s only one minute left
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| Son there’s only one minute left, son I’m ghost}
|
| I’m outside on the streets, just holdin it down
|
| I’m in the studio, droppin sixteen’s wit hooks
|
| I’m in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks
|
| I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June
|
| I’m outside on the streets, just holdin it down
|
| I’m in the studio, droppin sixteen’s wit hooks
|
| I’m in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks
|
| I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June |