| Set’s up high, bitches and whips topless
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| No ceilings, they pitchin' that Helen Mirren
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| It’s summer, that pot stick (pot stick)
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| Block burning, G’s banging on the beach
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| White tees, no socks shit
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| Palm tree on lean, bass rocks with the knock
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| Every cockpit bumpin' that Pac on the stock system
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| Rattlin' but battle ready cause they got the heavy metal
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| To handle for the fed he watchin'
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| Watch it, everybody observe the color of the block where they walkin'
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| Watch how they walkin', see her at the payphone code talkin'
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| She got them eyes, shorts, thighs thick, pussy poppin'
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| So the lay of the block maintain as long everybody play they role, if not
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| Try to step on somebody else’s line, but when they do
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| A critic quick to put a clip in a nine
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| A motherfucker will die in the summertime
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| Low nose clown on they pogo bounce when they slow-mo round
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| Make the hoes go down, homies smoke that loud 'til they choke fall out
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| And they run they mouth, what they don’t know might end 'em
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| Cause them women so fine in the summertime
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| Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
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| Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
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| It happens all the time in the summertime
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| Hold the liquor, it’s an avalanche comin'
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| A Cali nigga flooded in ice and quite stunnin'
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| And who wouldn’t believe the West Coast brung 'em
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| When the rest start runnin' when my set start gunnin'
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| I came to represent for the Liquid Empire
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| The Lexus squire with about six friars
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| Been a minute since I lit a nigga on fire
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| And I won’t stop rockin' 'til ya nigga expire
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| I-a gut the mic with the negative hype
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| Any steelo will fashion, I’m a negative type
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| Write whatever you like, starts day into night
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| Paragraphin' how you have it, I be crashin' your sight
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| As a treat, I’ll eat all beef and gripes
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| Toss up you niggas tryin' to peel my stripes
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| Killas don’t fright but hold up, here’s the truth
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| Summer turn cold when the crown hits the booth, nigga
|
| Low nose clown on they pogo bounce when they slow-mo round
|
| Make the hoes go down, homies smoke that loud 'til they choke fall out
|
| And they run they mouth, what they don’t know might end 'em
|
| Cause them women so fine in the summertime
|
| Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
|
| Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
|
| It happens all the time in the summertime
|
| Dice game, rice rocket, pipe laying, sidewalkin'
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| Eyes, drankin' wine, talkin' (?) (Right?)
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| Price payin', eye sockets, dry makin', fire lockin'
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| Fly paper skyrockets, scare residentials
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| Donuts in the cul-de-sac, photos at the intersection
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| Show 'em that Corona’s back, flipping off the pigs and
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| Breaking mirrors cause he own it jack
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| And he on about half a pill and he don’t wanna yack
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| So he keep it rollin' like that dice game
|
| Homies talk shit, Andrew Dice Clay
|
| Homies take shifts watching vice playing nice like they ain’t narcs
|
| Roll a seven, guns spark, dogs bark, dial nine-eleven
|
| Cars parked ring alarms, homies stop bettin' just for a second
|
| Then started up again like resurrection, then count their blessings
|
| Stop rubberneckin', you lookin' sweeter than confection, pause
|
| Laugh it off or get a weapon
|
| Low nose clown on they pogo bounce when they slow-mo round
|
| Make the hoes go down, homies smoke that loud 'til they choke fall out
|
| And they run they mouth, what they don’t know might end 'em
|
| Cause them women so fine in the summertime
|
| Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
|
| Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
|
| It happens all the time in the summertime |