| Damn cuz, the spot’s gettin' hot
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| So how the fu*k am I supposed to make a knot?
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| The Feds looking at a ni**a through a microscope
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| West Coast everybody and they Momma sell dope
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| They trynna stop us
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| So what the fu*k can I do and make a profit?
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| Catch a flight to St. Louis
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| I got work for their ass, plus everybody knew us
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| We stepped off the plane
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| West Coast bangers, professional crack slangers
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| Bought us a car at wholesale
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| Drove to the North Side, checked in a motel
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| AKs, ni**a, fu*k a 3−8
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| 'cause where we stayin' ni**as look shady
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| The St. Louis is a baby South Central
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| 'cause bustin' a cap is fundamental
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| I’m peepin' now every block close
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| which one will clock the most
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| Yeah this is the one no doubt
|
| Bust a U cuz and let’s clear these ni**as out
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| Now clearin* em out mean casualties
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| Now St. Louis got the L.A. mentality
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| Bust a cap and now out of there in a hurry
|
| Wouldn’t you know the gangbang here in Missouri?
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| A lot of fools got popped
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| And it’s better than slangin' in the Valley
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| I tripled my profit makin' more than I did in Cali
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| Breakin' off rocks like Barney Rubble
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| We smokin' ni**as that don’t want no trouble
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| And we ain’t on edge when we do work
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| The Feds must recognize the khakis and the t-shirts
|
| Gettin' bitches and they can’t stand a 2008 Tony Montana
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| Money turns into war
|
| Of gang violence, while it was never seen before
|
| Punks whirl when the gat bust
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| A West Coast ni**a kickin' up dust
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| And all the Yorkers in the Lou lookin' up to us
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| Wearin' our colors and reppin' our gang, bud
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| Givin' up much love
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| Dyin' for a street that they never heard of
|
| You know I’m from the Beach and I’m staying strong
|
| So you know the phrase, once again it’s on
|
| Stop before news
|
| Gang members from South Central Los Angeles
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| Which are known drive-by shootings
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| Have emerged in East St. Louis
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| Leaving three deads, two others injured
|
| No arrests have been made
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| Police says this is a nationwide trend
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| With similar incidents that occured in
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| Texas, Michigan, Oklahoma City, Phoenix Arizona
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| and now New York
|
| My homie got shot in the head and his back
|
| St. Louis ni**as want their corner back
|
| Shootin
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| It’s a legal biz, the ni**as still can’t stick together
|
| Motherfu*kin' Feds got the 4−1-1
|
| About the and the weed and they sellin' guns
|
| But see we ain’t thinkin' about the boys
|
| Feudin' like the Hayfield’s and McCoys
|
| Now the shit’s gettin' tricky
|
| And now they’re lookin' for the colors and the khakis
|
| Now the spot’s gettin' hot from the battle
|
| I’m 'bout to pack up and start slangin' in Seattle
|
| But the Feds raid about six in the morning
|
| Try to catch a ni**a when he’s yawnin'
|
| Put the Glock to my chest as I paused
|
| Went to jail in my motherfu*kin' drawers
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| Trynna give me 57 years
|
| My face’ll be full of those tattooed tears
|
| It’s the same old story and the same old ni**a stuck
|
| And the public defender ain’t givin' a fu*k
|
| Fool must be retarded
|
| Talkin' about a double life plea bargain
|
| You got to deal with the Crips and Bloods if you’re a real G
|
| Ni**a holla if you feel me
|
| I’m a East Sider that ('s) hangin' on the North Side
|
| And it’s a riot if anyone of us die
|
| On parole or probation
|
| Now this is a young G summer vacation
|
| No chance for rehabilitation
|
| 'cause look at the motherfu*kin' years that I’m facin'
|
| Imma end up like this so you know wassup
|
| My life is fu*ked
|
| Yeah, when I get out Imma get right back in the money
|
| Imma get right back to sellin' dope
|
| Do what I do all around the motherfu*kin' neighborhood
|
| You can’t stop me motherfu*ker
|
| You know I’m the kingpin in this shit, the connect
|
| You know we gon' stay ballin' ni**a
|
| And it just don’t stop here
|
| I’ll be right back in the money like I said
|
| Only got 157 years left |