| What up out there kenfo
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| This be Fiend coming at like this here here
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| I brought a couple of my people with me
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| Fiend, Mac, Soulja Slim, Kane and Abel
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| A couple of No Limit soldiers to help me out with this here
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| What cha mean, mean, heard about
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| Soldiers got some daily clout
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| Slangin in the dirty south
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| What we really worried about x2
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| (Peep this shit) I know you heard about this nigga from the 3rd
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| Raw, then a uncut bird with bad tempers and bad nerves
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| Serve, dope to a dope fiend gotta get more cream
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| Than the rest of the dealers
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| Every nigga that I fuck with gotta be from killas
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| Fill up in this shit, that was ever smokin, you can catch me smokin
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| On some shit that will have me broken, (cough cough)
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| I’m so high, I can ride, barely need to slug some dealing
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| No optimos, no keep moving, fuck it, pass the feeling
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| Real niggas feel me, cause I’m bout as real as it get
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| Son or stranger, no love for that studio shit
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| All my little partners gone, I’ll be damned if I G-O
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| But if I do I’ll grab my gun shoot like and pull let em know
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| You know I’m from the ghetto, hit the Glock
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| And pop my shots clean up your block
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| Red beam, maintain my aim, bullet holes in your brain
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| When I stop that motherfucking clock, Kane
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| Usual suspect, down south niggas bout respect
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| Choppin off slugs like a mailman in a corvette
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| Like the weed when i lower my tek
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| Niggas is seeking, pump down like bricks, in the trunk of the 626
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| Is something you hate cause your boy
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| Just got flipped, AK with a strong clip
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| In the hood I bust you with the tank
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| In the pen I trust you with the shank
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| My mind go blank, I’m a soldier smokin dank
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| All the way to the motherfucking bank
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| Now what yall mean, niggas on my team
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| They all about the cream
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| And my enemies, we take it to the street
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| To get the green, knowa mean
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| Came here with Slim, Mac and Fiend
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| I still scream WOAH!
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| In the drop with my nigga Wop
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| Runnin from the cop who was trying to meet his quota
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| I’m young and I’m black, I’m a soldier
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| So he thinking I’m slanging that baking soda
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| You ain’t heard about, nigga from that dirty south
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| Where the po-po's scout
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| Everybody, everybody that knows what your bout
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| Won’t leave your house
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| Cause at night, nigga freaks come out
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| Grab your gat with that extra clip cause if you catch us slippin
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| You might connect the grip
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| Shots there cut up strip bout a couple of ship
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| Like the peoples in summertime agent trip
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| Lets take a trip to the land where the niggas
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| Do the murderman dance on their enemies
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| And fake niggas pretend to be a, they be them friends of me
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| Woah, slow your roll and daddy I’m camoflauged
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| I’m PsychoWard and I stay on my guard and bitch I never die
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| What the world don’t know is I’m a hurt
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| A soldier without a pause
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| I’m prayin about cause, break jaws and all laws
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| My bullet scars didn’t heal, my tatoos reveal
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| Bout to ride explain a million of hostile
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| The burn feels like almost a step from death
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| Fuck spending lives, I barely leave a minute of breath
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| I’m set, families with teks, release my stress in thier chest
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| Wouldn’t know where I’d be without my god and my vest
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| Killers, we the best fuck all the rest, here hit the cess
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| Snort, c’mon the test
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| With the charge the best, cause I open your chest
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| God bless, I made my way back so I can say that
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| Me too whatever, should have known that Fiend believe in payback
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| Do it for haystacks, me, Slim, twins, and Mac
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| Gotta attack, with the jest to ask, deftly in the act
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| I doubt that, I’m strange cause I’m with the right change
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| After soldier consediration, I’m the live range |