| Big Bow, 13 motherfucker
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| Big Bow, 13
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| Another jam from the mind of the double D I put it down for the homies and the Central Coast Family
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| Some wicked shit pounding out your box
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| A little something to bump when you’re cooking them rocks
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| We all got our own ways of making the green
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| You do whatever it takes to get up onto the scene
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| I do what I do, staying true to the blue
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| Southside 13, what about you fool?
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| Run and hide and get out your map
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| Leva motherfuckers from the other side to the tracks
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| I never forgive and punk I never forget
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| It ain’t over motherfuckers, no not just yet
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| Move out of scene, I knew you would leave
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| I got another motherfucking trick up my sleeve
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| Smoke you like a roach, can I make it last?
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| Like a quick half ounce, another thing from the past
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| You’re the kind of motherfucker talking shit bitch
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| I’m the kind of motherfucker making the hit list
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| When I see you in the street you better run and cover
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| Cuz if I pull out my gat, I shoot to kill motherfucker
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| It’s the Lil’Rob
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| Known like the mob cuz I be dropping them hits
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| Giving it till you whores can’t stand, giving it till your heart quits
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| It’s open, hoping for another chance
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| Fuck that fat hyna, it’s ain’t over till the hyna dance
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| Glance at a man with no worries, full of teary
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| Riddle at me, loose, hang you fools from a noose
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| Then light you up on fire, put away my lighter
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| Fuck the fucking Devil, I’m the one that he admires
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| Inquiring minds want to know
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| How the fuck we can be so fucking sick and quick to stick pussy
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| The cheif enemies got the remedy
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| To make more enemies than anybody in the pen with a felony
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| Now you’re mad at me
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| I’m just glad we had the chance to be friendly before I killed you fucking
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| family
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| Say you’re understanding me, fool you ain’t no man to me Pulling petty crimes, thinking that you’re gonna flatter me Bitch I could give a fuck about what you’re doing
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| I could give a fuck about what, who that you flew
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| Make you sick like the flu, I know how to spook you
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| All it takes is a bullet, you’ll be shaking in your shoes
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| What kind of death do you choose? |
| Homicide or suicide?
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| Circle one, call me Gato cuz the cat got your toungue
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| Ese young, 21, people saying that I’m done
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| But the more shit that you talk, the more fun has begun
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| Leave your ass rung, let alone your ass hung
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| Chop you up with my machete with my hockey mask on Better yet I’ll paint my face up like Dead Presidents
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| In your neighborhood, nothing but dead residents
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| When I get through with them, set them up and have a brew with them
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| While the juras wondering what to do with them
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| Cuz there’s so many of them, God must not have loved them
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| Cuz he let me do what I did, close their eye lids
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| Now who be batty, coming trying to diss my skills
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| It’s that evil-minded demon, shoving fools under the hills
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| Motherfuckers try to run but they can never hide, I find em Putting the bullets in, hollow tips and I blind em Shadow be that one bald-headed fool ready to bust
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| The man of steel who turns his rivals into fucking dust
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| I must admit to all the shit that I commited
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| All the fucking bodies and the craniums that I splitted
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| I spitted many rhymes, I flipped so many sounds
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| Take these fools into depressions like the year of 95
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| Homicide got me tripping
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| That’s why I’m loading a clip
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| Motherfuckers trying to trip
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| They end up looking just like shit |