| Yo, Fes Taylor the gangsta, ride on you wankstas
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| Now I pull it and shake ya, or bullets and bang ya
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| Park Hill, 240 building we make a killin'
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| Rap gang make a million, it’s like ransom from takin' children
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| Ya’ll create the villain, and then wanna see 'em dead
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| When he seein' bread, you be soaked like you peed the bed
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| I’m the reason you bleed
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| I’m squeezin' fly lead, right through ya fuckin' head
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| Always somethin' said
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| Spread love to my wolves, shed blood for my crew
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| Gangster it out, do what you wanna do
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| Want to talk city to city, and coach state to state
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| Betty Crocker ain’t got shit on the kid, when bakin' cakes
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| I brake you an eighth, get on your feet, but I ain’t wit'
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| Niggas livin' off me, wake up and smell the coffee
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| I know you cowards wanna off me
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| I ham shower, on they walkie talkies
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| Pull the caliber on porky
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| Livin' star, a constellation that can’t shine
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| I’m hungry, when facin' starvation, I plant nines
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| Divined in the cut, you get touched our imposts
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| To the spine of the gut, when you get bust by the toast
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| Now you roast from the things, that I cut you on post
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| Smoke a Dutch to the roach, with my criminal approach
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| My material soaks in your brain cells
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| Cats with scratch serials, will crack ya egg shell
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| It’s Leathafase bitch, get the correct name spelled
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| Your son, your a lame, and I’mma make your frame melt
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| Under the belt, lies a 3−89, loco I’m crazy
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| I got big guns larger then a premature baby
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| Now you see us all gravy, over white rice, home slice
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| Bring animosity, precise to your doorstep
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| No remorse, no regrets, I just inject death
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| From a handheld object that’ll lay you to rest
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| You know how we do, lay you to rest nigga
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| Comin' for ya’ll niggas, explosion
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| Nothin' to say now, industry beef
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| We gon' spray rounds to lay down, crime boss pay now
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| Don’t get it fucked up, drape that’ll extra grime
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| When I pop up, you next in line
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| Swift with a nine, and conflict, the four foot five
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| And we AWOL, can’t control these Animalz, and mind that
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| Staten Island’s back on the map
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| Why, the PLO, fugitives that, get used to the fact
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| Drama in the streets, you gon' see it, son get used to the clap
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| Block bust emotions, picture doggie preview that
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| Carlton Fisk, low on the Lex, gorilla Homicide Housing
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| Came to collect, no sound, just pain in your neck
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| This Homicide Housing, comin' for ya’ll niggas
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| I run with, R felons, and reputed assassins
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| Reckless criminals, who live for the action
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| Like when it’s on, beef becomes merciless
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| And this coincides with slashes, stabbings, and murders
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| Countless with bleep on the scene
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| Jet in crib, to change outfits
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| Hopin' they ain’t seen at the time
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| To return to the scene of the crime
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| The shake cops and snitches
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| The name of the pitches, incorporate with a mind
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| Who eliminates problems in any bank in it’s path of ritches
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| See your treasury, and life is through ya math and bitches
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| Half made it, half seen it, and half statistics
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| I know, niggas bein' tried for bodies
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| Cause when they got snatched for ratchets
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| Their guns had match for listens
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| Trays ya presented, is somethin' like words of a witness
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| That got permission, to go and criticize my flow
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| But one things for sho', which ya’ll can’t condemn this
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| Get with infinite glow, and ya’ll can’t just end it
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| You got beef, then kill yourself, fuck your henchmen
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| I roll with a dirty dozen, thirsty hustlin'
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| Crawl back, you heard me cousin, ya herbs be frontin'
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| Dangerous I came with, banger and fists
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| Majorin' this, you think not, wager your chips
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| We lay in the pits, with weed bags, razors and bigs
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| Fuck this cow hide, this how I, been able the gift
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| Make them thugs get down on the floor, we found on the low
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| For them pesos, we pound on your dough
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| Wolves in the wilderness, from bricks on the juggle
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| Equip with the muscle, big fish in this hustle
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| Chicks that’ll fuck you, then bust you
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| No love in the struggle, and don’t talk to me, I don’t trust you
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| Raw like ants that’ll bite, how to get hype
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| Runnin' with the mountain bike, shoutin' my kite, what up? |