| Who wanna be a star? |
| Be out late night under the moon
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| Got a plan to get dough and be rich by June
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| And all the broads, sexual, yeah ultimate head
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| But, over one chick I seen two niggas dead
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| Who’s God? |
| Know theyself and still know math
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| And be that same bad nigga that’s hawkin on the ave
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| It’s Brand Nu baby, it’s Brand Nu
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| It’s Brand Nu baby, it’s Brand Nu
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| Uhhh, Lord Jamar, rap caviar
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| Guitar loop in a Jaguar Coupe
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| Combat boots, fatigue suit, niggas that’s ready to shoot
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| And «Ready to Die» like Biggie Smalls
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| We can drop our drawers, see who got the bigger balls
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| The way I act’ll be forever called a nigga y’all
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| Tattoos on my arms and neck, bomb the set
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| If you havin trouble payin me, pawn the baguettes
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| Cause I be comin armed with, more than a threat
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| All my LG niggas, why don’t y’all tell these niggas
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| Treat 'em like paper trees and fell these niggas
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| Now it’s all I can do not to smell these niggas
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| These Brooklyn blocks is lookin hot
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| These motherfuckin cops, is tryin to put me in they cookin pot
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| But the shit it ain’t gon' never stop
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| Forever playin the block, if you like it or not
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| At the bassline I blow your mind at the top
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| When the melody drop — I’m still here
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| It’s psycho Western what happened on Creston A-V-E
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| Bronx community, one-eight-three
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| Who is the summer heat for winter leather
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| Rims, rings, neck look gleamy bitch eyes look steamy
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| She said she been smokin outdoor all day
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| Let my find out my Bronx niggas hit you I’ll be up when it’s
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| When the sun go down, I lose round on the ground
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| One stuck in your crown, whoever zoos rendezvous
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| With they crews, these drawers rip for free
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| And if I can’t touch, then I got to pop the clutch
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| Non-touchin broad is a fraud
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| She prayed to the Lord and get fucked in a Ford
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| And she a bad bitch, daddy rich, cousin used to pitch
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| Faggot-ass brother gotta switch
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| Uhh, now from way back when, when you gettin up goin to work
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| I’m just gettin in, smellin like a pint of gin
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| Up in the rathole, where ghetto bitches sellin they souls
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| Cause it’s after 4 and all the discoes is closed
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| Nigga I’m up when you up, and I’m up when you sleep
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| Bouncin around in the black dirty offroad Jeep
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| Wakin people up tryin to sleep
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| Cause like the first time, this time, we makin the beats
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| The undeniable, satisfiable, reliable, Brand Nubian
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| Now you know we come with the bomb
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| So hi-tech, see us on your DVD-ROM
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| Get love from little kids like a Pokemon
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| Everytime we spit that shit it be our word is bond
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| See I been down in the trenches where projects hazard
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| Where them visions of wire fences and dopefiends ran the yard
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| I ain’t the sixth sense, I’m the 7th sense |