| For real? |
| Can I get a juice, Lord?
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah, squad niggas, boy, for real
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| Uh, huh, for real, man, word, open the door, man
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| Hustle flow shit, yeah, aiyo, pass the cigar, Lord
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| Come on, man, stop playing, man
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| We in the cabin playing backgammon, gorilla monster slammers
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| Brothers higher us, try us you gon' die, son
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| Green medicine, blow veterans
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| Run in Adidas store, six more valors, drawers feather skin
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| Hair cutted up, hollering, seven through three sixes
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| No, we ain’t the devil, where ya llama, dick?
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| Can’t stand the other side, niggas know we rich, we color guys
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| Loose up your mother, true lullabies
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| Gangsta ever readies, take off my shirt, no batteries, nigga
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| Just one mean magnum killer
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| Snow mobiles jetting out the Timber, feel Chef altitude
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| Yo, I can’t breathe, check the splendor
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| Brazilian honey dip, I’m on my rifle day, nigga
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| Times is roughing, Timberland cuffing
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| One knee up, G up, all the re-up
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| Hope we can pull it back, my throat my only weapon, blow the beat up
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| Stuff pillow pads in the rat holes, reduce that faggot ass nigga
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| Who wanna jump like a frog to a tadpole
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| Gag it up, sliding through the ER, batted up
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| A tube in your dick, you can’t piss when standing up
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| Hands is shaking, doctors is taken to operating
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| Nah, he might not live, so they start debating
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| You in bad shape, in the neck of New York
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| Your slithering ways, lay with you a bad snake
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| Smash bake, eight stab holes in your shoulder blades
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| You wilding on the stretcher and shit, bitch tryna hold your legs
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| Nah don’t hold his legs, tell that bitch ass nigga to chill
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| Put something in his meat like boiling eggs
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| Got gophers that sleep in the woods, car hard down
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| Padlock your bow-legged spot, where your rocks now?
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| You ain’t moving no crack, yous a moving ass rat
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| After you lay up in that morgue, I’mma fuck your back
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| Yeah, nigga, die slow with your smirk on
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| Night, night lights, dim it down, get your mirk on
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| Later I see you in hell, get your bird on
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| Filled with embalming fluid, get your serve on
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| My sherm on in the hood when I ride by
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| My eyes looking like I learned how to sky dive
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| The world is yours, there’s rules you abide by
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| Ride with the fly guy on I-95
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| They said a nigga return but I never left
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| I told Big L through me, he could resurrect
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| I’m that nigga like Puff in L-O-X
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| I took one L and life is still Double X
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| Brick City where I bleed on the streets at
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| The E’s in M&M's, I need a relapse
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| And bitches, grab my mic, give me feedback
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| Reggie you an asshole, baby, I be that
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| Yeah, I get cocky when the beat pumping
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| You know you doing it when your tire lip running
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| I keep a freak and I call chicken McNugget
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| 'Cause this super bad nigga, she McLovin'
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| Fiends get killed in my hallways, we parle
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| My feet been killing me all day
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| Your boy down for lot, like them killas in raw way
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| It’s all work and no play 'cause this block ain’t nothing like Broadway
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| Revenge is sweeter then sorbet, you all become believers
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| Once this heaters in your face, just a part of my funk swear
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| Y’all don’t want no part of the gun spray
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| I would hate to pull it in one stray
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| That’s where the innocents by stand
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| We trapped inside these tenements like damn
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| Why mama tryna feed us this spiced ham
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| Connects tryna cheat us with light grams
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| Co-defendants try to lighten they sentence, snitching to white man
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| Turned state evidence, fam, we ain’t jellin'
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| Felons ain’t felons no more, they straight tellin'
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| Ain’t nothing worse than a rat, you can’t smellin'
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| And ain’t nothing worse than a track, you can’t sellin' |