| Talking:
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| Whats that big baby?
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| You know whats sound dog
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| They gon' like this here, ya heard me?
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| They go like, you know what I’m sayin'?
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| Fuck 'em
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| From what I was told niggas say I’m a hit No Limit like Pac
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| Hit Death Row and make some mon', now dance ho
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| And blow, up like the world trade
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| And be protected by No Limit tanks, soldiers with K’s and hand grenades
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| Could you recall a soulja that used to be crawlin'
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| Now I’m ballin', don’t plan on fallin'
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| For the world
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| Left the furl in the dope man, on the set
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| Cause I got plans bigger then the desire projects
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| I run with steel object totin', niggas that smoke potent
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| And watch 'em in they back scopin'
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| Outta all soldier haters
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| Quick Draw McGraw niggas see ya later
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| Cradle to the grave ya
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| Ya daddy made ya?
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| Let’s see if he can be ya savior
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| When I cave ya chest in with me murder weapon
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| They can’t find out Smith and Wesson
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| Only Glocks and street machines with infer beams
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| You know what I mean
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| Fully automatic things light up the scene
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| And break ham like Carl Lewis
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| Nothin but gun smoke is all ya smell
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| Niggas lying dead on bullets and shells
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| My people dwells to Uptown
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| Where the shit goes down
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| Shot callers and big ballers, mothers know
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| And do-do brown, Beats By The Pound, somethin' you could smoke too
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| Flavors like? |
| red, beans, rice, gumbo the stew
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| My little one said its all on you, and Choppers City
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| My? |
| clique clanin' posse
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| Ain’t no stoppin', my committe
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| Shits bigger then me, Nino Black
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| Trenitty, ya feelin' me?
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| Incarceration had me real impatient
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| I was local until ya heard me on Down South Hustlers, it was nation
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| That told this shit is my creation
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| Is it real, yeah, cause niggas wearin' soldier rags and shit
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| Keepin' it twreal
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| My reservation is to make some mills
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| And stay independent
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| Stay wearin' girbauds and polos, and soldier Reebok tennis
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| Crushed out tank on my neck
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| Protect my chest like a vest
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| No more coke, no more dope, just alcohol and sess
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| Respect my rhyme because my mind is filled up with anger
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| Sound like I got a Glock for it
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| With black? |
| bullets in the chamber
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| Wait to be released and decease fake ass MC’s
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| Niggas best freeze cause I squeeze gats and burn to the third degree
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| Make you wonder will you ever breathe again like Toni Braxton
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| Leave ya skull fraction, about more action than Jackson
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| So you better ask somebody that know me
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| If they real they gon' tell ya whats real
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| If they fake they gon' soldier hate
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| I can freestyle about it without makin' no mistake, ask Tre
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| That’s my compadre, a nigga that I ride with, all day
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| Got it cocked
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| And in the trunk bumpin' nothin' but the Beats By The Pound funk
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| Pull that skunk out, the windows fogged up
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| And the system all the way pumped
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| Everything we drop be fire, don’t nothin' be bunk
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| I was a weed fiend, dope fiend and coke fiend with low key
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| And I was on the cumma move
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| When UNLV used to rock the club 49
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| Back in 93
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| Ho was givin' me love
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| Niggas givin' me daps and hugs
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| Soldiers respect soldiers, and soldiers respect thugs
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| Thugs gotta respect soldiers, if they don’t want they life to be over
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| Brought to a closin'
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| Ain’t nothin' changed but the name
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| When ya say soldier
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| Mean magnolia
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| Ya got that?
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| And me keep me Glock, for they cocked back
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| Hoes jock that, when a nigga be all the way real
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| Only thing they want is the dough, dick appeal
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| But I don’t fuck around no more
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| And only saw me like that you little clown ass ho
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| If my flow was a gun, bitch you would run
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| When you hear my come, from the head
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| Every lyric is a bullet
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| Fuckin' ya up with some of this shit I say
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| In 95 nigga left for me dead but I didn’t die
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| And some of the soldiers die
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| They only multiply
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| God left me alive, so I can blow up in the world
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| I thank the man every night for takin' me off that pearly girl
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| It gave me the opportunity to raise my son and my community
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| Cause now a days niggas got guns and shit
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| Screamin' out unity
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| Motherfuckin' nigga bruisin' me
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| That something I can’t go for
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| I done signed the contract
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| Shut the studio door |