| Cool & Dre, uh
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| Terror Squad motherfuckers
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| They’re all gonna laugh at ya, haha
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| They’re all gonna laugh at ya
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| Yeah, (YO), uh, (oh God), haha
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| Haha (feedin you, feedin you)
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| Yo (feedin you, feedin you)
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| Yo, uh, yo, call me the JV artist
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| That means I own two joint ventures and two different labels, niggas that pay
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| me homage
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| Been in this game for nine seasons
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| That’s nine reasons why I’m expired the rhyme beefin
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| Ya’ll niggas is rappin ass backwards
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| I left twenty spots since beginnin this rap shit
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| All yo papi lo que pasa contigo
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| Mad cause I’m the only nigga reppin our people
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| When I came in this game, no one wanted the job
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| All of a sudden niggas actin like they wanna go hard
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| Spittin venom 'bout the Squad, try and shittin the God
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| This ain’t no «Scarface» shit, blow up your kids in the car
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| And since you wanna act like you livin a movie
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| I’ll hit you with more shots than Bruce Lee got in a «Fist of Fury»
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| Bitch niggas, nothin but snitch niggas
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| Today you on my dick, tomorrow you on his nigga
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| Got deported from the Squad, can’t afford another car
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| Where’s your house at? |
| I heard your livin with your moms (livin with your moms)
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| Blane nigga better stay in your place
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| Keep talkin, burst a flame in your face, motherfucker
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| Yo, yo, with this comparison the Geddy is God
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| Cause even though you never seen me, I been put fear in your hearts
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| And I’m smooth like a Mulo it theme
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| Skip bullets of your Coogi beam
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| Before you knew you were seen
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| Yeah I’m nice and I don’t care if you know
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| Cause all you really need to understand is how hard I’m rulin with Joe
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| And the streets is no place for late bloomers
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| Just gangsta niggas, snakes and bitches that meant to spread rumors
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| Listen, I’m from the Bronx were the gun shoot rabid
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| Front if you want, but don’t think we don’t shoot rapids
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| I’m what some might consider a ghost
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| Cause I move at night, plus I’m the type to play a live nigga close
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| I’m the ultimate, high consulted, rhyme vocalist
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| I write dope, spit dust and shit cocoa bricks
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| This is what you dicks need to act-knowledge
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| Or get the shit smacked outta ya fat cabbage
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| Don’t ask why we act violent
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| We just killas and thugs
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| Niggas wit mad talent, that still dabble in drugs
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| I only rap now to speak to the streets
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| They say the Squad gotta feed 'em the beef
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| So we gonna feed 'em the beef
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| My nine milly blaze, and hit hard like Willy Mays
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| Since my kiddy days, grew up with thugs who were really crazed
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| Ain’t no silly games, right here be the truth
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| 150 proof, whoever, I’m talkin to you
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| They call me Prospect, I’m one in a mil
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| One of the real, I rap but I still put a gun in your grill
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| I’m the reason why I catch you when your car breezin by, with your Iceberg team
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| You look when the light turns green
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| Your scared to death, don’t make me have to air at ya chest
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| Or tear ya flesh, for actin like I carin whats left
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| Anyone can get it in a minute give it some time, I’m livin this rhyme
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| Let my nine get in your spine, sit and recline
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| Get so mad, forget and rewind
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| So I can see what I did again and just slide
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| To the next level, hop on the bike and just pedal
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| Bustin at your best rebel, who runnin to test medal
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| Let me get settled, lay my mom down in this game
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| For niggas kinda refain, I push 'em down in the train
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| Bout it the same, my three cousins up in the Benz
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| Big, G Psycho and E, ya’ll know what this is
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| Yo, yo, It’s the T, E, a R a, a R a, O, R Squad
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| So you know I gotta be that bitch Remy Mar
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| With Armageddon and your nigga Joe The God
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| Tony Sunshine and motherfuckin Prospect
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| Straight out the projects
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| A forest, where they kill for mils and they blast the steel
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| But I’m from murda murda Castle Hill
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| I got a big ass burner, but I’ll slash your grill
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| Yo don’t got no status, don’t want no static
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| They knew you was loco toto, and I don’t no Spanish
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| All I know is how to cock back and aim for the cabbage
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| And keep on bustin 'til the bitch brain splatter
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| And the kids won’t matter, when the crib’s on fire
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| What you spit don’t matter, cause this bitch on fire
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| And I won’t stop rockin 'til I retire
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| Any bitch disagree is a god damn liar
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| Yeah, uh infamous Terror Squad nigga
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| Loyalty, what does it mean to you
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| How many a ya’ll niggas is loyal?
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| All these Benedict Arnold niggas
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| Switch sidin niggas, ya heard?
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| Nigga I throw this whole rap shit out the window in a sec, ya heard?
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| Joe Crack the Don Diggler
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| The savior, Caesar, the streets is mine nigga
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| We ride, who wanna test the record launcher, ya see 'em?
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| Uh, haha, feedin you, feedin you, feedin you
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| Make your move baby, c’mon
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| Step up baby
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| They’re all gonna laugh at ya
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| (*laughing*), woo, BX |