| Yeh, you know it yeh
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| Detroit City
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| Guilty Simpson, clap it up y’all
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| Beats at will, yeah
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| I don’t really care what squad you wit
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| Cause a real nigga don’t need sponsorship
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| And a posse don’t make me hard
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| I’m a leader so I gotta play these cards and face these odds
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| Ain’t no time to chase these broads
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| Tryin to get paper to create these jobs
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| And it’s a fact when you’re black that you don’t know how to act
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| When your bellybutton’s touchin your back, yeah
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| That’s why a lot of us fuck with the crack
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| Cause it’s the easiest way to double your stacks
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| And all the hoes scream «Where the hustlers at?»
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| Usually the pretty chick with the bubble in back
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| Word to Dilla dawg I’mma get it all
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| Combination safe behind the picture on the wall
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| Even though moms raised me right
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| I swear to God rap shit saved my life
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| Yeah, all the people in the back sippin 'gnac
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| We representin for y’all niggas, do it! |
| («clap your hands»)
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| C’mon, it’s a party
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| («You and you and you to clap your hands») Everybody
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| All my people with the drinks in your cups
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| Turn the muh’fuckers up and go nuts
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| My mood swings like pendulums; |
| I got two birds
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| One’s a middle finger and trust me that’s the friendly one
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| Because my Desert Eagle will kill all who envies him
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| We transport info quicker than Pentiums
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| I’m gutter, what I’m spittin is classic
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| So walk on eggshells or I bury you bastards
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| I rep the D, so when you speak about me
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| I’m the letter between C and E
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| In fact I’m the 1 between 3 and 3
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| With a smokin gun commitin B and E’s
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| And I don’t fake at all, all I can be is me
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| And if you don’t like it I dare you to get excited
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| Detroit nigga my area is the tightest
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| The raps come easy, live it see it and write it
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| Drug wars, shootouts, mentally sick men
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| Naturally my breed’s equipped with thick skin |