| Luciano
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| Pauly C
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| Briand
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| Freddie
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| Brothers
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| Dungeon Family
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| Dungeon Family
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| There’s some rules on these streets that we all go by
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| Dope on these streets that you don’t buy
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| Girls in these streets that you let walk by
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| People on these streets that you don’t try (2x)
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| I got this hook-up with a Jamaican, he got that fire-fire
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| Roll it up, fold it up, now everybody sky high
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| Certain people that you don’t try
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| Certain things that you don’t buy
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| Listen, live: never try to make that fast sale
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| Cause when you do, you be on Right Street makin bail
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| When you ride, you better ride clean
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| Don’t put no work in your pocket, leavin stains in them Calhoun jeans
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| We livin life, and it’s hard knocks
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| Some of y’all pushin weed, some of y’all pushin straight rocks
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| That’s why we Organized and run with a team
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| When I get the Caddy, I flip-flop some cream
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| Lookin out for girls that be tryin to scheme
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| Wipe out the fakes, start some triple beam
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| So if you know a hustler, don’t even cross that line
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| When you get caught up, go and do your time
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| Now my brother told me, 'Never sit with your back to the do'
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| Re-up, not when you out, but when you start gettin low
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| Play your game, maintain, and watch who you playin
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| Look them laws dead in they eyes, and tell em you ain’t seen a thing'
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| Me and my folks on top, we run these blocks
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| We pay the President, the government, plus them dirty cops
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| Pauly Calhoun, livin million-dollar dreams
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| Now spendin the most, we represent the South Coast
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| With some utility trucks, blast them 'Greatest Hit'
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| Co-pilot, most dangerous gator mouth pit
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| Cause we some hustlin pros, never missin a beat
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| And we’ll match any price if you find it this cheap
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| Trump tight, love hundred-dollar bills
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| Secrets than can kill, you can trust me, my lips are sealed
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| Location unknown somewhere in the woods
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| Right back in the smoke stack, fire burnin goods
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| Ain’t nothin goin on but sackin this hay, and stackin this pape'
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| Huh, we’re loaded up, and we’ll be on our way
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| See, the last out the blocks is the left-overs
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| We in a LX 470, bein trailed by a Rover
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| Tryin to figure out who’s 12th time snitchin n this click, and
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| Inside scoops got my partner pinched for a chicken
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| See a hit, dog, I holler
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| When it gets tight around the collar
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| Never talk for a dollar
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| Rules of a Calhoun scholar
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| The rules
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| That’s right
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| Gotta know the rules
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| Check it out
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| There’s two things I was taught when I first got here
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| When East Point was nothin but a big dirt hill
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| That when you fight one-on-one, never pull a pistol
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| And you never put your hands on a Calhoun sister
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| Now these the type of things you know that’s right
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| It’s like extra-player points, so live your life
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| Now he said he heard my tape the other day, when he was walkin
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| It wasn’t really like I was rappin, it was more like I was talkin
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| I said, «Well damn, playboy, I don’t mean to be braggin
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| But your girl wasn’t really suckin, it was more like she was gaggin»
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| Why he naggin, he ain’t never showed no love
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| Man, every since I knew him, he always been a scrub
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| So I stepped to him, and he wouldn’t hit me
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| Cause he knew I’d leave and come back and have the whole East Point with me
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| So don’t you think for once he took my heart
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| Cause the table at my crib was a tree in his yard
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| It’s the Calhouns |