| Say Runtz, this shit what I been goin' through lately, you heard me?
|
| Yeah, uh, uh, yeah
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| Slidin' through the streets, took off my cleats and got some peace from it
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| I been here since I was selling water zips for three hundred (FOREVEROLLING)
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| First time I hit something with that blick, I had a weak stomach
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| 7.62 bullets knock the numbers off of 300
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| He ain’t die, but his remaining life gon' be a cucumber
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| Niggas can’t out-snake me, I’m a king cobra
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| The realest ass, the trenches let my brother run through three boulders
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| Last one so ign’ant, that the J, he wish he could re-smoke it
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| Next time I see Henry, I know it might be a shootout
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| Serving on probation with a anklet at my boo house
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| Give your life to me, and what I do and you get flewed out
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| Leave it in ho raw while she on top and let it ooze out
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| Her head was so stupid, would’ve thought she had two mouths
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| He said, «Are you sure you don’t wanna talk?» |
| And I said, «No doubt»
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| Took a break from trappin', started rappin', made a new drought
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| Talking to them ratchets get you clapped at your new house
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| Your bitch said you’re so scared, told me everything I knew 'bout
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| They said he almost dead, so I’m just praying they pull the trigger (Swear to
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| God, please let 'em pull the trigger)
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| Slidin' through the streets, took off my cleats and got some peace from it
|
| I been here since I was selling water zips for three hundred
|
| First time I hit something with that blick, I had a weak stomach
|
| 7.62 bullets knock the numbers off of 300
|
| He ain’t die, but his remaining life gon' be a cucumber
|
| Niggas can’t out-snake me, I’m a king cobra
|
| I gave niggas history and something real to beef over
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| We take sons from fathers and give mamas shit to weep over (Cartel)
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| Puerto Rico Dave just tapped my hip, I put that pack on it
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| Vacuum-sealed with inner tubes to eat the base, got stamps on it
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| Dick inside her purse, you get berserk, I put that lamp on it
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| Making slick remarks, get no response, can’t even hear that shit from where I’m
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| at
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| Never went through theatrics, just put eighteen zips on Cali meds
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| Losing like a tool, I ain’t open up a package yet
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| Re-rock in my kitchen, doin' re-cooks
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| 'Cause Sandra posted bond for my lil' brother, he got re-booked
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| A hundred bricks of tan in minivans, I got the streets shook
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| I met Teflon Mark in Phipps Plaza in Atlanta, I’m with OG Ken
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| Sell load, got stopped, but I recovered, this is no pretend
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| Smiling on a boat with my lil' bitch, I just been focusing
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| Cigar smoke, got caught up in the moment when I soak it in
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| Covered up my face in public, hope nobody notice it
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| I cover up her face and fuck her, I know that she loving it
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| She look back and say, «Bae, I’m cummin',» I can’t hear you, come again
|
| Slidin' through the streets, took off my cleats and got some peace from it
|
| I been here since I was selling water zips for three hundred
|
| First time I hit something with that blick, I had a weak stomach
|
| 7.62 bullets knock the numbers off of 300
|
| He ain’t die, but his remaining life gon' be a cucumber
|
| Niggas can’t out-snake me, I’m a king cobra
|
| I gave niggas history and something real to beef over
|
| We take sons from fathers and give mamas shit to weep over |