| Yo, ayo let’s get papers and pop Mo' with hoes up in skyscrapers
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| In condominiums, overlooking our drug capers
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| New York City, know only way to play is gritty
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| I want cheddar, so we can front up in the 850
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| My whole committee like to puff L’s and look jiggy
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| Who wan' test this? |
| My semi leave you chestless
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| And ain’t shit that you can say to me when you be breathless
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| Young, but I done did shit that you won’t do
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| So go ahead wit the bullshit you blab about goin' through
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| I got niggas who pump on yo' block and in your spot
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| Who sit next to you? |
| Protectin' you?
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| But they’ll murder you, playa
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| Don status, nigga we gettin chipsesis
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| And bad bitchsesis, fronting, fronting in eclipsesis
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| Ayo, Ma$e and The LOX
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| We taking knots from the out of state spots
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| Any nigga make it hot, get found in vacant lot
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| You don’t really wanna come try, the one guy
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| Who stay dumb high from blunt lye
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| The Rikers, Sing Sing alumni
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| Who got more beef than a Islamic farm
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| So I pack enough sonic arms to neutralize atomic bombs
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| It’s not a nigga in your gang want it
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| My AK slay gays, spray strays wit niggas' names on it
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| Often I bug, then bust off on a thug
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| Have a chump coughing blood, fill his coffin with slugs
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| Yo, you know I got enough guns to wreck a nation
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| Any nigga wave a TEC at Mason, have a explanation
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| You bring your crew and 'em and I’m doing 'em
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| Then I’m beating 'em down with aluminum
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| Then I’m putting two in 'em
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| You can’t touch me, I’ve been devil sent, wanted for embezzlement
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| A lot of other things, but that’s irrelevant
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| If you love the money, then prepare to die for it
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| Niggas done started something
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| You can lay in the flames, or hug the sky for it
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| Niggas done started something
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| If you love the money, then prepare to die for it
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| Niggas done started something
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| You can lay in the flames, or hug the sky for it
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| Niggas done started something
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| Yo, check out the kid that get coke like Sosa
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| Never turned down chocha, be in the Costa
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| Rica, sipping margaritas with a mami
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| Cleaning my Tommy, showing love to my army
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| Whenever The Lox find rippy blocks, we kill 'em
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| Yeah I hear niggas, but I still don’t feel 'em
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| And this for the listeners, and prisoners
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| And them jealous rap cats that prefer dissing us
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| My 16's be so real
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| You can feel 'em in your vein
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| Like Ramello’s pops from Sugar Hill
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| J be the cause for the kiss at your wake
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| Cartel lips, spitting clips at your face
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| We started from the bottom, you’ll see beg niggas' pardon
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| Whatever, we can do it at the Garden
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| Word life, this shit is real, B
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| I’m making niggas blow trial even if they not guilty
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| I want a palace for my thugs, with oriental rugs
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| Green bags from drugs, get whacked for the love
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| Twenty niggas batter me, still couldn’t shatter me
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| I’m only getting up, splitting up your anatomy
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| Official LOX family, grants niggas handing me
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| I want the finer things, and I hope you understanding me
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| Sitting at the table, planning and plug the fan in
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| Let the sweat dry off and then grab your cannon
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| Think you’re smartest, and retaliate the hardest
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| Regardless, if you’re a thug or a rap artist
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| Respect me like Pesci
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| And if rap was hockey, I be Gretzky, puffing Nestle
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| And y’all niggas done starting something
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| Acting invincible like you God or something
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| If you God, then I’ma make salat 'til you rot
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| And if you a playa, then play for everything you got
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| And if you a thug, then start busting off shots
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| And if you a dog, you better bite before you bark
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| If you love the money, then prepare to die for it
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| Niggas done started something
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| You can lay in the flames, or hug the sky for it
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| Niggas done started something
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| Don’t come at me with no bullshit, use caution
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| 'Cause when I wet shit, I dead shit, like abortions
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| For bigger portions, of extortion and racketeering
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| Got niggas fearing, fuck whatchu heard, this what you hearing
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| How much darker must it get, how much harder must it hit
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| See if your hardest niggas flip, when I start a bunch of shit
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| I like pussy, but not up in my face, so give me 3 feet
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| 'Cause when we creep, no more than 3 deep, niggas see sheep
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| Bloodhounds found your shit buried in the mud |
| Following traces of gun powder, residue and blood
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| A positive ID is impossible, so you know
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| John Doe is what they gon' be putting on that tag on your toe
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| Now who gon' tell your mother, her baby’s under a cover
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| In the morgue, stiff as a log, sniffed out by the dogs?
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| Another hardheaded nigga that wouldn’t listen
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| So you got what you came for
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| (What's that?) Surgery with the chainsaw
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| I hit the fucking streets
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| 'Cause, like I said before, ain’t nothing going down until I eat
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| Muh’fuckers think it’s all about impressing bitches and stressing bitches
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| Well, I’m testing bitches game, undressing bitches, and caressing bitches
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| And dealing with muhfuckers on all levels, what I’m dealing with is all devils
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| Fucking with snakes running with niggas you call rebels
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| I got an army of 730 niggas, dirty niggas
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| That come through and worry niggas
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| 30 niggas that like to bury niggas
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| And scary niggas get it all the time
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| 'Cause what they got is all of mine, your man was talking shit until I pulled
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| the nine
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| And if I don’t know you, I don’t fuck witchu
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| And if you with my man, then he getting stuck witchu
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| And gave it the money, 'cause I just lost my mind when he crossed the line
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| Sent his back through his chest then I tossed the nine
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| Boss of crime, black Gotti, I stack bodies with the black shottie
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| Bitch-ass niggas that act snotty
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| Get it
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| These niggas is for real
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| These niggas ain’t playing
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| This ain’t no fucking game
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| She think we playing?
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| Ruff Ryders
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| Grr |