| Recognize legendary tales
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| on a track from a certified +Po Pimp+
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| Recollect in the essence of that shit that I know you wanna hear
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| Gone especially if you smoke hemp
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| Come on and take a sip, of the liquor of my life
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| and get drunk off the way that the veteran get it in like he’s supposed to
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| Terrorizin like a creature King Kong
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| when it come to gettin on a song showin why they chose you
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| Spectacular when I be killin them off with the words
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| I murder the beat so they gettin served like soft white
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| Off white, let me show you how a baller dress
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| Show you how we ride, show you what a baller talk like
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| Some razzle-dazzle with the words, look at how he said
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| Make the ladies love it and they all say «Hey now»
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| Put a hurtin on them from the way you kick it
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| Yeah you do it so smooth
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| But the way you put it down-down-down-down
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| You don’t mess around, round
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| You’re professional-nal-nal-nal
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| You don’t mess around
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| But-but-but the way you put it down-down-down-down
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| You don’t mess around, round
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| You’re professional-nal-nal-nal
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| You don’t mess around; |
| you’re dangerous
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| Pardon the intrusion
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| It’s the real, peep script, check the style, I done started the illusion
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| of masterin me, that’s what other cats attendin
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| but this here is patent pendin and still I’ma be improvin
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| Stutter steppin, struttin, rockin to percussions
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| Comin up with somethin just to show them niggaz they ain’t fuckin with me
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| Up on a pedestal kind of extravagant when I be bringin it
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| by the remarkable amount of haters, if they want me come and get me
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| But don’t judge me, cause I’m so strong
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| Let he who without sin cast the first stone
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| Cause I’ma simply pull a hoe card and flow on
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| Cause somebody told me to go hard or go home
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| New Twista on The Legendary Trax beat
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| Fresh for everybody, angel dust
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| Like what you get when you cross
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| Michael Jackson with Teddy Riley, +Dangerous+
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| Under my office desk I’ma get my dick sucked
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| Bossed out, flossed out, flicked up
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| Then I throw my wrist up
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| Get her tossed out, light up a cigar, leaned back, feet kicked up
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| Or get in like I’m a entrepreneur connoisseur
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| It’s a mantra but still I honored to do her
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| So I’ll maneuver
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| She rode it and put on a hell of a performance, don’t even bother to boo her
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| Then when I go up in the party, I be, cocky
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| cause lil' mama thick and they bitches lookin hella pathetic
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| Pull up in the Benz or, probably, Maserati
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| and they undress her with their eyes like they telekinetic
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| Niggaz lookin at her hard so they all stutter
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| And bitches wishin they could take they clothes off of her
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| Classy girl, yeah I like the way you walk
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| Yeah I like they way you talk — but the |