| Yeah, uh, what the fuck is all that gossip 'bout
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| It wasn’t us if we ain’t shoot him up or chop him down
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| Nah, that ain’t my bitch, that’s just a toss around
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| I got the streets though I’m covering a lot of ground
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| I’m taking over, yeah, running to that bank and I can’t take it slower
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| Came up offa rock, like my name was Hova
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| Mummy raised a king, Peckham made a solider
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| Yeah, this thing of ours is like la Cosa Nostra
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| Coca Cola, baking soda, ah, put the magic in, that’s hocus pocus
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| Niggas selling shots, and I don’t even notice
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| True, they’re babies to me, I just wipe their noses
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| Pull up with a stick and just do the Moses
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| Put a parting through your wig like he did the ocean
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| Ah, my bad, I meant the sea
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| If you ask about me I’m everything I’m meant to be
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| My dawg in the jammy got a quarter century
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| My other dawg in the trappy got a quarter of them keys
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| Ah, all I do is talk about is the streets
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| That rat came home and he got corn within a week
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| Shh, ah, yeah, shouldn’t even speak
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| Very short fuse with a very long reach
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| All I do is win, I’ve had a very long streak
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| Ain’t no filling my shoes with them feet
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| Me and you ain’t size, nigga, don’t know who lied to ya
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| I can see that bitch behind that twinkle in your eye, nigga
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| Never been my guy if I ain’t done that do-or-die with ya
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| I don’t say slapped but for that pack you get slide, nigga
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| In the bin, no strap, just an ice picker
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| Yeah, and I got money on my mind, nigga
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| Hundred racks, straight cash, that’s a nice figure
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| Ah, I’m still gang, I ain’t a side-switcher
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| Niggas switching side, they ain’t got no backbone
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| Little nigga, I’m in the bits with a bulldog with no backbone
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| That phone’s rang twice, nigga, don’t be calling that no trap phone
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| See me lying down with a Mac prone if it’s beef, and you don’t want that smoke
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| Get dragged in a jeep, left in the street, all bloody a weak
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| It’s bloody and peak if I pull up with the something with buttons and squeeze
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| Yeah, got you ducking from sweets
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| Now I’m ducking from police
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| On the run for the beef
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| Won’t forget it
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| Niggas out here so pathetic
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| Thinking that it’s copasetic
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| Boxing like a sandwich, niggas gon' baguette it
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| Glocks out and them ballys, niggas gon' regret
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| Boxing chicken sandwich, niggas don’t fillet it
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| Oh you want to challenge? |
| niggas known to set it
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| Keys like DJ Khaled, niggas known to get it
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| Niggas so invalid and they owe me credit
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| Nigga picking sides and they flipping biased
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| Man clipped up your ride and we slit the tyres
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| And man picked up my style and I’m sick and tired
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| Just zipped up my flies, I’m the flippest flyest
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| Niggas telling lies and they quick to buy it
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| Niggas gonna die 'cause they quick to try it
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| Showed them hella times but the clip deny it
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| Shot up man in June, he got pitched Julyish
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| Straight up, had to bun him
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| I know that it’s sad but nigga had it coming
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| Even when it’s winter niggas brang the sun in
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| Hundred miles of running, had to bash his skull in
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| Even when it’s boring niggas add some fun in
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| Finger in her pussy and my thumb in
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| Nigga, I’m the dumbest, brang my gun in
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| Them say Hollow’s gully and they love it
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| Yeah, lighter’s talking
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| Man ain’t talking shorst, but mandem tried to short him
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| I don’t like to talk just stick my knife and fork in
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| Niggas talking powers like their Mighty Morphin
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| Niggas get it right, I want the nicest portion
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| Who’s these little — that they keep endorsing?
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| Talking porky pies, I got the right to poke him
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| Man that pussy good, it get the right endorphins
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| Niggas switching side, they ain’t got no backbone
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| Little nigga, I’m in the bits with a bulldog with no backbone
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| That phone’s rang twice, nigga, don’t be calling that no trap phone
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| See me lying down with a Mac prone if it’s beef, and you don’t want that smoke
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| Get dragged in a jeep, left in the street, all bloody a weak
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| It’s bloody and peak if I pull up with the something with buttons and squeeze
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| Yeah, got you ducking from sweets
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| Now I’m ducking from police
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| On the run for the beef |