| Stupid, you know it’s time to sit and think, before we hit the brink
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| Lockerroom, at a prize fight, before he hit the ring
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| Like when I tell these corporate leeches they can’t get a thing
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| Or when I tell relentless rappers they had better sing
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| The position that anyone holds could be up to grabs
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| I’m waitin up the ave to see if anyone folds
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| Since I was twenty-one years old and legal
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| I knew the difference between gimmicky gangsters and powerful people
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| I’m the reason, why the game is flipped
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| I’m the reason, why your aim is missed
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| I’m the reason why you’re mad I only sprained my wrist
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| The reason my mindframe is trained in this
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| You like gunfire? |
| Better acquire the taste
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| Cuz youf walk aroun' with full pounds by dem waist
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| Deface property, they be laced properly
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| Rules are rules, fools are fools, I react logically
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| Ain’t no way, so come, make my day
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| Like Tom Hanks I earn long bank and +Cast+ you +Away+
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| «This mic in my hand, I’m rulin!»
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| «I repeat, this is not a question»
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| + (Krumbsnatcha)
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| Oh you brag about the ki’s you flipped and who you done up
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| Nigga whattup? |
| (Put up or shut up!)
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| Poppin shit about the chicks and the whips you got
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| You think you hot? |
| (Uh-uh, man — you put up or shut up!)
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| Always talkin bout your dough and your wealth and fame
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| Youse a lame (Get out of here — put up or shut up!)
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| You got hot beats and kids that can spit mad fire?
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| Youse a liar! |
| (That's whack — put up or shut up!)
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| Aiyyo I’ve seen the toughest of tough guys, the roughest of guys
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| Get reduced of their juice against the wall like small fries
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| All rise, it’s time to do the damn thing
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| I’m all wise, my mind exercise like handsprings
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| Crazy degrees of difficulties
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| Remain mackin chicks, O.G. |
| shit, the ten prixs (?)
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| Please, you know my peoples want a lot, the corner’s hot
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| We gettin love on y’all block
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| And that’s gangsta, but a lot of shit ain’t
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| Believe me it ain’t easy like you sleazy niggas think
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| Uneasy niggas blink, when I step to the stage
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| And don’t flinch, don’t move a inch, I’m bout to empty the gauge
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| I’ve witnessed the bad shit, sickness and sadness
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| Always dreamed about what I would do, if I had shit
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| Drop jewels infinite for the blind deaf and dumb
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| Down with M.O.P. |
| and Bumpy plus I just left Krumb
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| But I’m back. |
| ha, fresh out of the max
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| And I’m gettin at you cats
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| Aiyyo popped out the beast, met The Ownerz with the lease
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| Soldifyin contracts over dope beats
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| Learned a whole lot up in these streets
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| Like when to talk, when to spark, and when not to speak
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| I do the one before a gun come out
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| Plus y’all don’t really wanna see Krumb dumb out
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| A ghetto doctrine to watch every pistol pop
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| And then while you watchin examine all options
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| Young bodies in the coffin more often
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| It stay the same from Brooklyn to Boston
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| Every interstate, more youth with the inner hate
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| Deep in the struggle, puttin food on they dinner plate
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| Hungry W.O.L.V.E.S. |
| that roll thick in packs
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| And pray on you cats with the gangstafied raps
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| Extortion, only gettin left with a portion
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| Pullin out tools on them fools who be flossin |