| This sound hard, somethin funky people gon’dance to Give the record a second and a chance to Hittin people like a scene of amazement
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| While they slippin back my feet is planted in the pavement
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| Crumble I can never do So now I’m lookin dead at you
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| What are you gonna do?
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| You listen to the knowledge of a scholar
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| You say 'Hi Breed,'tell em how I holler
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| I’m the E Double, and I proclaim my name
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| Straight up good game, peeps all game
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| I’m like a rhino runnin through the roughest pack
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| They figure I’m a trigga-happy nigga, so they step back
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| Breed, the microphonist
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| Boot last the longest
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| The noose’s the strongest
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| It ain’t a game, that’s plain to see
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| You listen to the sounds of Breed (and the DFC)
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin
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| I never got caught with a kilo
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| And if you ever do, yo, it will never be with me, yo Servin in a Cherokee or maybe it’s a GTO
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| Black-on-black Benzo, I get it at Never have to worry bout my posse gettin jumped
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| Cause if we ever do, yo TB, pop the trunk
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| Cause we don’t go for playin, when I play go grab a ball
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| When I’m on the mic I ain’t for playin, not at all
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| Cause I clock 10 g’s a week boomin at my peak
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| Always seek E sober, but I do get geeked
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| I can give you a job, a place to eat hearty
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| Meet your homeboy Marty at a b.o.b. |
| party
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| Takin over, barkin like a dog named Rover (woof!)
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| I’m pickin suckers like a four-leaf clover
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| They’re bitin lyrics on the mic, I diss these cobras
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| So now they’re sayin, «Eric Breed is gettin over»
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin
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| Ha-ha-ha
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin
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| I’m the B, the r to the double e-d and
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| Down with my homie G-a-s and O.E. |
| and
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| Suckers causin static, cause they still be disagreein
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| I don’t give a — cause I’m from F-l-i-n-t'n
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| A city where pity runs low
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| If you ever shoot through my city, now you know
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| Cause we are strictly business and we also got our pride
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| And if you don’t like it, I suggest you break wide
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| Suckers steady lookin for the m-o-n-e-y and
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| Thinkin that illegal is the best way, so they dyin
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| I ain’t got time to see a fiend fiend out
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| To give up all his money, and he givin what he got
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| That’s the way I am, MC Breed cannot be different
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| Never change my ways for the world or the government
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| If I was the president, then I would state facts
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| You leave it up to me, I paint the white house black
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| It ain’t no future in your frontin
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin
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| Yeah, I got dollars in my pocket, not from rollin
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| If I was a fiend, then my gold would be stolen
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| Put my name Breed on everything I own
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| And when I get my jeep I’m puttin 'Breed'on the chrome
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| Shine it up good, kickin through my neighborhood
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| Motorola phone, fat rims and a Kenwood
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| Quick to get around it, and then i’ll have it drop
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| Simply cause I’m ridin people think I’m sellin rocks
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| But ain’t no future in your frontin
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| Yo Flash man, drop that, man
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| Won’t you drop that
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| (Keep on)
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| (To the beat ch’all)
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| Cruel to the rules of the world
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| Live my life raw, cause I never liked the law
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| Wear top tens, on my ass use jeans
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| Sellin big 8ths and tit-for-tat to the fiends
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| Clock much dollars, but I never break a sweat
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| Time to move out, my posse sayin (bet)
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| You got my back, and I got yours
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| What time is it? |
| Hm, Tear down the doors
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| Man
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin
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| Never was, cuz
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| There ain’t no future in your frontin
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| Hey man, let’s start this party up, right?
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| (Beat y’all)
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| (Keep on) |