| All my niggas dirty, see a nigga cutthroat
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| It’s Like 2: 30, call the product kids up
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| Get the utmost, up most
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| I’m gettin' head from the front do'
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| Front fo' nigga right here at your front door
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| Oh no, rhymes pass ya like Rondo
|
| Switch the flow, can you hear me like some old phones
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| Hustle anything getting money 'til the Feds roll
|
| Real shit nigga, all I do is eat foes
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| Slammin' on niggas like Onyx from the free throw
|
| Flatbush born dead, nigga I’m a hero
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| And oh yeah hoes, man I got like zero
|
| Tolerance for bullshit or ego
|
| Took enough acid and I’m feeling like Neo
|
| Niggas took my style, man I’m feeling kinda geeked though
|
| Swag champ, twist a nigga up like some
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| Peep though, progression at its finest
|
| Treat you so good cause you’re only what you’re lyin'
|
| Your fire’s so quiet, they see through your mind and
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| Your iris, your eyelids, your eyes can’t define it
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| They hear when they want ya
|
| Fear what they told ya
|
| Reprogram yourself or I fear for your health
|
| Program inhibition, I’m willing to ride
|
| Few grams back-to-back let that sync in your mind
|
| Rhyme right, rhyme tight, should’ve been signed twice
|
| If this the outcome, I’m waiting on my next life
|
| Roll the dice, motherfucker get your shit straight
|
| Been great, flipping weight call me Triple H, yeah
|
| Zombies we the shit man ya
|
| Zombies we the Kliq man ya
|
| Palm trees like a birthday
|
| Ain’t nothing like the first day
|
| Ain’t nothing like the first day
|
| You could judge by the blunt by the terp taste
|
| Know a nigga on a run on my worst day
|
| See you stepping on my lawn leave the hearse way, yeah the hearse way
|
| Ain’t nothing like the first day
|
| You could judge by the blunt by the terp taste
|
| Know a nigga on a run on my worst day
|
| See you stepping on my lawn leave the hearse way, on the first day
|
| Back to take the game, got my ice on brr
|
| Back the fuck up, I got the Juice in here
|
| You can’t compare, living like this can’t be real
|
| Only talking if you’re only 'bout them M’s this year
|
| All red looking like the prince is near
|
| And the bitch with me looking like the baddest here
|
| High as us, throw 'em off like a chandelier
|
| Back-to-back smoking like I can’t be here
|
| Yeah, back against the wall, me against the world
|
| Battle to be fought, trying to hit the floor
|
| Trying to hit the show, never let the
|
| Hating on the boy, nigga been divorced
|
| Straight up out the morgue
|
| God damn, load the clips in the dollar van
|
| Run up in the crib dog, feeling like bruh man
|
| Coachella overseas feeling like Summer Jam
|
| Master P all about it
|
| Had to cut 'em off, see, feelin' like they can’t define me
|
| Blowing in the wind on my RZA shit you can’t find me
|
| Anyway the wind blows, Bohemian rap flows
|
| These new niggas just hoe, like Jay-Z I change clothes
|
| Terps taste like mango
|
| Dope-in-the-vein flow
|
| Coke-colored Kangol
|
| Your main bitch, she get low
|
| Out of site, out of mind
|
| Niggas running out of time so they
|
| Ain’t nothing like the first day
|
| You could judge by the blunt by the terp taste
|
| Know a nigga on a run on my worst day
|
| See you stepping on my lawn leave the hearse way, yeah the hearse way
|
| Ain’t nothing like the first day
|
| You could judge by the blunt by the terp taste
|
| Know a nigga on a run on my worst day
|
| See you stepping on my lawn leave the hearse way, on the first day |