| I make my block move like earthquakes, they call me sandman
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| 'cause while I smoke this up, I got coke to cut
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| Leavin niggas so doped up, they chokin off they throw up Can’t even see straight, leanin like they need V8
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| Nigga call a g eighth, jail I can’t see me in
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| A year’s too long it’s only shorter you got three in I run with niggas on the run from 25
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| Y’all only heard me for 18 months, already I wanna spray shit up Keep braggin about your cars I’ma see drama before it happens
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| When I roll up hard, you wonder what the fuck cab I’m in
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| 'cause I can pop up and peel back and all I can promise is peel caps
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| With holes, like the bullets was damn near pose
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| I see your Lex duped out, your sunroof’s out
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| Now look at me droppin three in your dome two to your mouth
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| Leave a nigga head blowin his horn, with his signals on Don’t lie before a snitch call cops I’m fall blocks
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| See I spit hard 'cause I know that’s what y’all want
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| Y’all aint said it first, I’m droppin with a odor out my trunk
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| Now what the hell is that, you smell that?
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| All you see is a shoelace teared up from the back
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| Like I’m fishtailin a Ac And who I sound like? |
| C’mon dog my voice drown mics
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| But nigga don’t compare, stop talkin and come here
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| You know where I be at, BX and nigga bring that
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| I already got mine, the only difference I pop mine nigga
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| HOOK: Styles Paniro
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| Ruff Ryder nigga, carry the pound
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| Get engaged with these bullets, then marry the ground
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| Drag dash On the fire is real
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| We don’t talk about guns, we will pop our steel
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| You don’t sound like us, get down like us Make a nigga mom frown like us, we Ruff Ryde
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| Til I say enough died, I’ma still bust mine
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| Finished with the pound, then I’m startin with the nine
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| I don’t sound close to niggas, niggas runnin around
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| Rollercoasting niggas, I make post of niggas
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| When I put the toast to niggas
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| Let me see y’all niggas run, 'cause when I tote float niggas
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| And deep throat niggas
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| Spit flame, drop of a dime, drop of a quarter
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| I’m the real reason why niggas rush the border
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| They don’t plea 'bout they freedom, they just wanna see him
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| So I can speak words to tease em, and mislead em To have 'em smuggle me guns, smuggle me drugs
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| Fuckin with thugs, cuttin niggas up just out of love
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| Drag buy guns in New York, hell naw!
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| I got cubans send me cuban cigars for these bars
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| So fuck y’all 'cause all I could tell y’all the rest is no tax
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| I’m fire so y’all could never be no macks
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| Last nigga touched that couldn’t get his skin back
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| Came in in all white, left out in all black
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| When I pop mine, my bullets ignore stop signs
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| So when you feel a burnin sensation, know it’s clock time
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| You know like 2 to 6, or 3 to 9
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| 9 to 12 and under that, aint nothin but shells
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| Pick em up, throw em right at myself
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| Tell a kid this is for every bad month that daddy sent to hell
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| Those that wanna be like, shoulda just been Mike
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| And when you see me in the streets, we could do it like Nike
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| HOOK |