| You don’t know my fucking steelo
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| I can’t fuck with you punk if you can’t cop a kilo
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| 36 ozs, no gold D’s, hoes on their knees, bitch please
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| I owe the mob 4 million
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| They want their money or their dope or they’re killing all my children
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| Fuck that I’m Bruce Wayne insane, if you see me in the rain I’m selling cocaine
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| You see I just joined the mob man
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| And see the run with the righteous or Batman and Robin
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| And I ain’t with the stick up
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| For every nigga that you stick up
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| He’s bound to call his clique up
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| I got to worry 'bout the police
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| And the F.B.I., wanna know why
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| Cuz I’m a million dolla ball playa
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| And these minor league niggas would love to see me fall playa
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| I’m on craps like 2 dice
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| Fuck FM 98 and that bitch nothin' nice
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| I’m underground like P-Funk
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| And I’ll still put you’re bloody body in the fucking trunk punk
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| I’m on 7 mile riding dirty
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| With a birdie in the trunk and a bag of funk
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| Nigga what?
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| I’m on 7 mile ridin' dirty
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| 168 an 8th to jump back
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| So now I must add and subtract the pape stack
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| Ill automobiles, V12's and meals
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| A half a million dollar house out in he hills
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| My chrome plated .357's my tool
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| Nigga don’t make me out a fuckin' fool
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| You’s a hoe ass nigga, ain’t got no loot
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| If basketball was a gun, you’d be scared to shoot
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| Fuck that rap that you saying, don’t make no sense
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| My recital is vital once I commence
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| Got 36 oz, one kilo z
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| 2 8th's is a half and 4 is a key
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| I’m a street politician so I politic
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| If the chicken ain’t cookin' then the grease ain’t clickin'
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| Get a bird mother fucker, fuck that nine to five
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| Call me John Travlota cuz I’m stayin' alive
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| 7 mile ridin' dirty
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| To all my homies sellin' dope, don’t be a snitch and don’t go broke |