| War, we run these streets like a renegade
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| Get that gwop, til the rent is paid
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| Hunt my pray, in the calvacade
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| Revenge is got, when the boss is slayed
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| Aiyo, what up homey, it’s Toney, revenge is so sweet
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| And I move with artillery, roaming the streets
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| My guns is ginormous, bullets is heatseeking
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| Big brother got the eye on me, I watch how I’m speaking
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| And I move like a porn star in charm school
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| I stick everything I see, but I only take jewels
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| And Cash Rules, pills and that cocaine powder
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| I ain’t a man, I’m a Killah, obsessed with power
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| And revenge, I don’t need friends and shiesty activities
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| Move alone through the City that they call Liberty
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| And trust nobody but my bullets and my shotty
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| Carjack a fool twist his limbs like pilates
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| Ox' him, buck 50 stitch him, Chinatown Wars
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| I chop 'em up like rice in the kitchen
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| It’s a, bad decision, starting beef with the butcher
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| He ain’t a bleeder, I pop him son, your man is a gusher
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| Clap on, clap off
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| Fake ass street thugs, either need to ax off or cough
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| Feel 'em, Metal Finger steel drum
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| Clean inside walk with him, talk shit to real scum
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| Of the earth, take it with a shovel, fool
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| Main character, super villain, lovable
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| And don a mask like a clown, of thorns
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| Blow your horn and get pounded out by the boring
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| (I take your order) let me get one wing
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| Any king that bring this sting for Chung King
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| No change, no stranger to gats
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| Took notice, what so strange is no cats
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| Dogs is wars, dud luck, draw straws
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| Fuck the boss, drowned on blood and duck sauce
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| Stuck the enemy, a wack deal caper
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| For racks of fake Fendi and stacks of real paper
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| Yo, it’s a manhunt, my mentality’s militia
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| If my four-fifth had lips, I’d make it French kiss ya
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| Cause no mission’s impossible, I carry my Wu-Tang sword
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| On my back, and attack all obstacles
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| Burnt down buildings, avenging my father’s death
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| A store for ransom, and snatch your crystal meth
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| I pillage, my warpath is unpredictable
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| Leave 'em dead on arrival, broke up or critical
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| War nine, frying swine to pork grinds
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| For trying to walk the fine line, thoughts flying
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| Had more fun with a crooked rookie
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| Went for his gun, cracked his skull like a fortune cookie
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| A mind reader, find out, speak, freaks bow
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| With the nine heater, beat feet and smile now
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| Ten paces, about face, chase me
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| We make it sound crazy than a case of M-80's |