| Where is the guillotine?
|
| Let 'em eat yellow cake
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| Shooter with a nuclear family of killers
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| Willing to juice the concentrate
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| Fool it’s a sauna, light a fire under your honor
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| They’re talking life to a lifer, I’m liking the odds
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| Gimme the water
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| Give her the pill
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| Give 'em the needle
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| Beetle Baileys of this world all getting killed someday
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| Say partner, say dog
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| Say what, say what’s going on?
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| Pause
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| This is a stickup
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| Stuckup motherfucker come get some
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| Jet some, he floss some flotsam
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| Boss, um, they got salads to toss, um
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| Crosses to burn, um, losses to learn from
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| Collars to turn up
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| A tear the club up thug
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| A juicy-jay on a motherfucker, they cuttin a rug up
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| A cut up motherfucker looking like lady luck
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| So buck up young buck we got bucks like hoes got fucks to give
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| She don’t give a fuck, shit, you better not
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| Heads high kill em with the kill em with the filament
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| You feeling it? |
| A filibuster filling bust and feeling bust
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| You feel like busting out
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| Bedside manner with some dead eye-candy
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| Apple-red dye fanny-pack, a sack of baby fat’d better back it up
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| Where the titties at? |
| Show that kitty cat
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| Better getting milky with the silky weave
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| Sweating on the satin sheets
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| Rap about it
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| Be about it, be about it
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| Beat it up, the beef is in the freezer
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| But he keep that heater creepin up
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| Shorty boo, baby momma, make it clap
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| Give it up, drop it low
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| Push it, spread it, bite it, kill it, get it get it
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| Throwing paper for the coochie
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| Slapping gucci, rockin gucci
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| Give her gucci, get’s the pussy
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| Redder in the bed or in the car
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| Whippin a rolls, rollin a blunt
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| Dick in a ho, making it bump
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| Faking the funk, seizin
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| Partner it’s too seasoned
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| Fuck with a Pimp-C walk, with a little bit of mouth
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| Please turn em out, preach on a soapbox
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| Botox, cold hot, ho watch it
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| Who gonna fuck with the trillest?
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| The building they building down there
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| On the block got no windows up in it
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| Back like it’s crack for the roaches and rats
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| Giving daps to the dividends, backhand a bitch in the car
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| Stars are for rappers, the televised trappers
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| This shit is the realest, that’s how come he feel it
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| So hard he will knock it while driving to work
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| And he work on the first and the fifteenth
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| When knox got the check in they pockets
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| He pick it, she lock it, she roll it and drop it
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| The acid is burning the weed
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| Smoke it out, high as a bird from the trees
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| Cali dro, Cali go cataracts, freeze
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| Hands in the sky
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| Dive in and driving the lambo
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| And crying from coming down hard
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| Pulling the card, carrying hood motherfucker, my lord
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| Balls of the word, scriptures is semen, they seeming disturbed
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| Flipping the bird, kicked to the curb
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| Ya hunger with yams to be served |