| They say the boy is old school
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| WWF, I will smack a fucking chair into that little ass chest
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| You out of breath, that means you in need of some rest, have a seat, literal
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| I’m yelling to the crowd and they yelling to get rid of you
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| And I don’t need the cage or the rings
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| I’m from the game that goes bang in your dreams
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| So keep dreaming like a gauge in your sleep
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| So I can see what you thought on the sheets, I call it sheet music
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| Like the counting the sheep moving, The sleep movement
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| They seep into it, I see what you doing, you’re sick, I see through it
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| Like a live leak to a filming, From a local’s phone
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| I choke ya focus, Gone like hocus pocus, a locust swarm
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| The only way you hearing a buzz
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| Over the music that they play in the clubs
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| Sending the thugs baby, show me some love
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| I see the haters, they ain’t fucking with us
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| (They ain’t fucking with us)
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| Never that, I’m better at it, you little fuck
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| Whoever ratted got bullet tatted the full advantage
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| I’m laughing at it, trying to find a little good in us
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| Good luck motherfucker, night night motherfucker
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| Smoke blunts, you know the black is potent
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| Don’t front, you know I got cha open
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| At lunch with the snakes and pigeons
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| Front, get punched in your face for living
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| Listen, I beam ya wig, your scene is riddled
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| My dreams is big, my crib is little
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| Living in the Ville is risky
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| Niggas green with envy but I’m Bill Bixby
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| Mr. McGee don’t get me angry
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| You wouldn’t like it when I’m angry
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| Listen, P, new Lou Ferrigno
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| Big bullets that shoot through you and your kinfolks
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| Ruck from Heltah
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| .9 clapped, spine tapped and fuck your felt up
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| Snuff to the wack boy
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| Biggest nigga in my group Buff from the Fat Boys, P!
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| Never that, I’m better at it, you little fuck
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| Whoever ratted got bullet tatted the full advantage
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| I’m laughing at it, trying to find a little good in us
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| Good luck motherfucker, night night motherfucker
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| I’m crumbling the dope, two G’s in a bucket
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| Big bundle for the rope, twenty G’s for the nugget
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| Doing slaloms in the slope, my machinery’s rugged
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| You pussy with a shit stain, bikini is muddy
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| Break levee when I rain to the vicinity, flooded
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| So I could test my human skid canouved
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| This is only a small portion, I’m giving you a snippet view
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| Trailer visual sicker than salmonella Chicken flu
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| My creative juice come from a different fruit
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| When you sip it strong like Guinness brew
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| Spill blood on your tennis shoe
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| Before I bless Chalice, I use paper clip to scrape the residue
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| Stick man get the money, take the revenue (Get the money)
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| Theme music for you to push the Lamborghini pedal to
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| Explode a grenade and pieces of metal flew
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| Collateral damage aim for the torso but the leg will do
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| Never that, I’m better at it, you little fuck
|
| Whoever ratted got bullet tatted the full advantage
|
| I’m laughing at it, trying to find a little good in us
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| Good luck motherfucker, night night motherfucker |