| Uh-huh, uh-huh, motherfucker, uh-huh
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| Yeah, I see that, I see that
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| All y’all fake motherfuckers up in the joint, huh?
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| Stealin my light, huh? |
| Watch me, du', watch me 4 in the mornin, yo Check these up top murderous
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| Snowy in the bezzle as the cloud merges
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| Every eye try and want word with this
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| Kid who punked out bust a shot uip in the becon
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| Catch me in the corner not speakin
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| Crushed out heavenly, yo’g rock the sweet daddy long fox me'
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| Chicken and brocolli, walle’s look stinky
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| With his man straight from mally dog, he recognized kojack
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| I slapped with 5, Masta Killa cracked his tiny form
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| E’rybody break bread, huddle around
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| Guzzle that, I’m about to throw a hand in your back
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| Since the face been revealed, game got real
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| Radio, open gats and niggaz, mind pastas, scream the ill
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| I’m the inventor, 86 rhymin at the center
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| Debut '93 LP told you to enter
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| Punk faggot niggaz stealin my light
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| Crawl up in the bed with grandma, beneath the lazy board where ya hid ya knife
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| Ghost is back, stretch Cadillacs, screw cocktails
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| Hit the shells, the pub space we rap
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| Walk with me like Darthy tried to judge these
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| plush degrees, said the cow, wrap the fees
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| Gettin waxed all through the drive-thru
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| Take the stance, throw my hand all on the bible
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| and tell lies too, I’m the ultimate
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| splash the Wolverine Razor Sharp ring, dolomit'
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| student in role holdin it Aiyyo, this rappin’s like zeenie, facin me real TV
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| Crash at high-speeds, strawberry, kiwi
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| As we approach, yo herb, the Gods bail
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| These Staten Island ferryboat cats bail
|
| Fresh celly, 50 thief up in the city
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| We stand for life, Apollo kids live to spit the real
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| Apollo kids live to spit the real
|
| Appear bright fat yellow Air Max
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| Hit the rats, snatch 'em up, son, $ 20 off, no tax
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| Street merchant, tucked in the cloud, stay splurgin
|
| Rock an eagle head, 6-inch height was the bird
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| Monday night Dallas verse, jet, juice sled in with one hand, 2 culture cyphers, one bag of wet
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| Heavy rain fucked my kicks up, wasn’t lookin, splashed in the puddle
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| bitch slapped him, first thought was beat the bitch up Mossied off gracefully, New York’s most wanted
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| Tiber hawk, saw the yellow brick road, lept over pastry
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| Same Ghostface, holy in the mosk, last seen Manhatten 6 chase
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| Re-do the 6−8 digit in the briefcase
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| Rawness, title is Hellbound, quick to reload
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| around faces, surround-lookin sound
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| We split a fair one, poker nose money, gin rummy
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| with glare, spot the lame, bit his ear
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| Yo, you taste a tea-spoon, 300 goons, stash baloons
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| Locked in lab rooms, hit with glock, stabbed in Grant’s Tomb
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| Clocked him like a patient, his stock’s full, hustle invasion
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| Knowin now, we cocked a block off, the chain tri-color
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| Freezin in valor, ice-sicles galore
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| Gas station light gleamin on the wall
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| Cop WiseGuy jeans, James Bond vans
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| Niggaz flipped him, rock boats under water, watch Clans
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| pose at the stand-off, mad timid
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| hopin that the gun fall, guess him like lottery ball |