| Bunsen burners, laboratory beakers
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| Pour it in the speakers
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| Haters fire heatseekers
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| Though they fail to reach us, we
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| Too cold, your soul
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| Shiver when you see us
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| Mad that you can’t be us
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| So you planning ways to see us
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| Defeated, it’s not happening
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| One deep in them two seaters mashing
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| Ignoring the pain like pitbulls when they scrapping
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| I’m, too far in it to stop and see if I’m injured
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| I gotta finish my nigga, I gotta kill it
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| Signed, sealed, delivered at your front door nigga
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| Where you gonna go nigga
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| Audio dope dealers
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| Smugglers ripping through the jungle on them four wheelers
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| Shit don’t get no real love
|
| We got these hoes chilling
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| Because we can smoke in here
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| Working hard, we party with the privileged
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| I got it all, because I’m gifted
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| The lord giveth, my nigga
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| Knocking at the door cause' they want some more
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| Sleeping outside for it, like they waiting on Jordans
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| I can’t afford, to not record it
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| Cause' I know them niggas waiting on it
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| Jet life, love boat, all aboard bitches
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| Smoke a jernt, and play some shuffleboard with me
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| Them boys living, them boys getting it
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| Going from boys to men
|
| Check the cut on my denim
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| Check the stitching
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| Authenticism in my lyricism
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| Studio coke written
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| The booth, the stove, the kitchen
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| Scraping the sides of the pot
|
| Not a dollar we missing
|
| And the aim still the same
|
| We acquiring more millions
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| It’s like the Wire
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| It’s like New Jack City
|
| It’s like Menace
|
| This shit serious, I’m not kidding
|
| You’ll get killed for being curious
|
| Cats get chased by the big dogs
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| Round' here, aw yeah
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| Shit will get wicked quick
|
| And ya’ll was just kicking it
|
| Now you gotta pick up your homie up
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| Cause he got hit, and them niggas is still shooting
|
| Fuck is you gonna do
|
| Pussyfoots’ll never feel a real niggas shoes
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| Hoes feel this, professional audio dope dealers…
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| Yeah man… |