| Oh yeah, this dirty right here
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| Oh, I’m comin', niggas, I know you hear my footsteps
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| Kay Slay, what up?
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| This is pandemonium, cuffs can’t hold him
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| Puff can’t make him go get nothin' from nowhere
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| Don’t ask do we buy these shows, don’t go there
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| Jump off the stage, leave the microphone smokin'
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| Free rep Philly everywhere that he’s goin'
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| He’s overseas, y’all fleas don’t go there
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| Y’all got keys but your keys get you nowhere
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| It’s up behind bars, nigga, no cells open
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| Twenty-twenty vision, y’all is Ford Focused
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| We ride Benzes, key-less ignition
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| Freeze on point like the bass with the rhythm, we livin'
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| All y’all do is spark mad’ism
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| Test us, gun spark, no harsh feelins
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| I play the villain, young arch-nemesis
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| You don’t got the heart, don’t partake in it
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| Is you soft like butter? |
| I see visions
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| You like, «Why did they let Free into this?»
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| Bearded bandit, lyrical terrorist
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| You know Free, he be everywhere the money is
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| Flow like Free? |
| Y’all guys is hilarious
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| Death, murder, and mayhem, everything that drama bring
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| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
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| Death, death, murder and mayhem, everything that drama bring
|
| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
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| Put the barrel to his apparel, shoot back like bow and arrow
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| I’m on them niggas' hills like shadow
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| Hundred shottas go 'blocka' when it’s a battle
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| I turn that block to a lot of you niggas tattle
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| Silencers when I do it, won’t hear a rattle
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| Nigga, that’s how we do it on this north Philly gravel
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| to the city, don’t need to help with me
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| 'Cause hollow tips and the fifty tied to the belt with me
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| Do you wanna ride or die? |
| yeahh
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| La, la, la, la, said them fuckers in the sky
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| Every shell got a name
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| Feel like I spent years in the range so you know I’m so sincere with my aim
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| Get the drop, you get shot if you there when I rain
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| Go insane, get a kick out of airin' you lames
|
| You the type when it go down, disappear on the gang
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| I did it from day one, still here I remain
|
| Death, murder, and mayhem, everything that drama bring
|
| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
|
| Death, death, murder and mayhem, everything that drama bring
|
| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
|
| T Lee the answer, better yet, the antidote
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| Sixteens, cancer, boy still a cannibal
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| Bars raised standards, flow so impeccable
|
| But now that I’mma lawyer, go the game by the testicles
|
| The nerve of me
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| Slay, it just occurred to me
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| If they under thirty then they probably never heard of me
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| They don’t show the courtesy
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| My homie told me murder these clowns with rhymes and get in line like
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| fraternities
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| You better tell boy, yeah, boy, I’m hot
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| You can call me hellboy, why? |
| I’mma die hot
|
| Tra' still amongst the best, so why stop?
|
| Yeah, you know I’m a monster, youngster, cyclops
|
| Big game, hollow tip, click bang, I’m the shit
|
| Hit her in your Porsche, you only hot 'cause of politics
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| Let’s see, address me as yes sire, esquire
|
| Admire the pedigree that just fired
|
| Death, murder, and mayhem, everything that drama bring
|
| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
|
| Death, death, murder and mayhem, everything that drama bring
|
| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
|
| Death, murder, and mayhem, everything that drama bring
|
| I slay niggas with K’s, I’m with the drama king
|
| Yeah, it’s scrappy, it’s like the iron swing
|
| And you can say that rappin' and let the llama sing
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| I throw a note from this A.C.P
|
| Bullets come in H.D. |
| on blu-ray, you rappers is bootleg
|
| Your skinny ass jeans is too tight
|
| You wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight or nut in an orgy
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| I rock your balls, you’s a fuckin' employee
|
| Niggas better start duckin' when I’m pluckin' this forty
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| Cold-hearted but my blood run hotter than June
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| I’m still doper than the shit in the middle of spoons
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| And I don’t give a fuck 'bout a goon, I’m a guerrilla
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| I beat my chest and growl at the moon
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| A alike, yeah
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| B alike
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| You flee little rappers annoyin' like mini-bikes
|
| A buncha noise I just do it like Nike
|
| Pull out that toy, you get sparked on site, right
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| Need a light? |
| Uh
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| Get it right, went over that stove, I cooked coke like rice
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| Straight Bolivian, it cooked like twice
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| Turned nine into half a stone
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| A Mac ninety with that hundred shot drum turn your house to half a home
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| And I ain’t even in gear, I’m at half my zone
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| You don’t even know the half when the half is on
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| I don’t stop 'til your casket gone
|
| Start cuttin' niggas jumpin' off buildings like Pastor Troy
|
| We could face-off like Castor Troy
|
| Yeah, the Broad Street Bully back, you bastards warned |