| Warfare, warfare
|
| Nigga play with me, he be outa here
|
| Warfare, warfare
|
| Kidnap his kids, and his mama next
|
| Beef shit, street shit
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| I’m hands on, when it’s time to murk a bitch
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| Everybody killers, till they found slayn
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| Pussy ass niggas tryna get a name
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| I put your name on the news, if you want some fame
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| Black male found dead, holes in his brain
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| Gun fight, court trial
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| Don’t need no whitnesses, so they gotta throw it out
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| Teflon don, charges with a stick
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| 50 round drum, all my shooter’s toes thick
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| Say my name on a song, that’s a death wish
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| I’m the king of Rich Crest, nigga, you a snitch
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| 5 7 hit your ass, you goin shit and piss
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| I be in the mob, nigga, we don’t talk about it
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| We catch you on the ground, put some chalk around ya
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| I got killers from Memphis to ATL
|
| Warfare, warfare
|
| Nigga play with me, he be outa here
|
| Warfare, warfare
|
| Kidnap his kids, and his mama next
|
| Tell me, do you love your mama
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| Do you love your kids
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| If so, calm down with all that fuck boy shit
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| You ain’t never died before, partner, but you will today
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| The price for your life, probably round 2 K
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| You like to fuck with them hoes, so you’s an easy target
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| You like to stand off in the morning, when you leave your apartment
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| Ain’t no justifying no disrespect when it’s to the mob
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| Ain’t no hollering bout how you just wanna live, when you said you was so hard
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| Even in my Benz, sniper hit you with persision
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| Hit up Red, tell him it’s a done deal, he up in the kitchen
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| Whippin whippin work
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| Test me, and get murked
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| I’m from the land where do or die niggas shoot first
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| If it jam, still know I won’t tell a lie
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| Nigga, I’m the man, hold my Glock high
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| Warfare, warfare, Edgwood, Zone 6, don’t go over there
|
| Warfare, warfare
|
| Nigga play with me, he be outa here
|
| Warfare, warfare
|
| Kidnap his kids, and his mama next |