| Kill your idols, sawed-off rifles
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| Have niggas bleedin' like a menstrual cycle
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| Claimin' that title; |
| nigga, what title?
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| Chopper make 'em dance like a ballet recital
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| Played up with motherfuckin' low cash
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| Tryin' to get rich with my broke ass
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| Nigga need bread, I’m lookin' for some more cash
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| Sick of blowin' back, yo, and now I wanna blow gas
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| Forty on deck, and nigga I’m gon' blast
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| Money ain’t power, catch up yo' ho ass
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| Run up on the dope man, with a black mask
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| You know what it is, nigga, take me to your stash
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| Now I’m dippin', outta that exit
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| Whip that dope, make sure I stretch it
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| Gotta figure free, goddamn good investment
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| Now I’m known as that little nigga with a nest egg
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| Fuck that, nigga, blow a hundred on a necklace
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| Mossberg pump 'case shit get hectic
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| Badass bitch laid up at the Westin
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| Feed me grits, cigarillos full of Welch’s
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| Nigga, I’m a badman, badman
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| Twenty-five thousand dollars cash, man
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| Have them killers jumpin' out yo trash can
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| With them red dots on yo Ray-Bans
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| And I beat a bitch pussy like a caveman
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| Whip that Benz like a slave master
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| You can try to run from me but my chopper faster
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| 'Bout to lay the competition out in front of the pastor, nigga
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| Kill your idol, even if he me
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| Mossberg blow takin' off a nigga knee
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| In the middle of the war zone, that’s where I be
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| Hand on my strap cause a nigga got beef
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| And that bitch suck dick like she ain’t got teeth
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| Eliminatin' all competition with the heat
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| Illuminati illuminatin' and niggas can’t see
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| Lame ol' flake is something I can’t be
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| Leave it as an idol, something I can’t see
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| Role model for your kids, my nigga, that ain’t me
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| Better go to church, my nigga, I don’t preach
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| I can only reach the one that I see
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| Rollin' up blunts with they mouth full of fronts
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| Ride shotgun with the front seat slumped
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| I still black cause he just got jumped
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| Lookin' for them bitch niggas with the Mossberg pump |