| 41st side nigga, them thirsty side niggas
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| Number one pick, gutter litter, leavin' 'em bitter
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| How the fuck a nigga figure he can come through this?
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| With no worry at all and ice on his wrist
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| Plottin' to get it, poppn' them slugs
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| One in the mug, leave 'em in the morgue, keepin' it gangsta? |
| we keepin'
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| It thug
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| Makin' albums, washin' that dough made from narcotics
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| You know the mob brolic, gats we got it
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| Like a bitch on her period, don’t even wanna see you
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| Unless you got what I need, and we sure not peoples
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| Only niggas that I fuck wit' could hold what I bust wit'
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| A one minute nigga, hit 'em like when I nut quick
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| Got a bad ass bitch that’ll fuck your clique
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| Ass so fat, make the illest nigga dry snitch
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| It’s time to stretch on these cats cause my dogs is restless
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| The number one sinner mothafucka, repent this
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| Fuckin' wit' us will leave you in a cardboard box
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| Fuckin' wit' us will leave you leakin', callin' the cops
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| With nothin' to bust? |
| we’ll leave you in a fucked up spot
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| And you don’t even wanna be that nigga claimin' a spot
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| Verse 2: (The Jackal)
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| Play stupid, 32 shots nigga, looped it
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| 64 troopers, Tim boots and Rugers
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| Show and prover, Q.B. |
| manuever
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| Pure breed grower, flow gives brain tumors
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| Holla at ya dog, movin' units
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| Ain’t ready for the onslaught
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| Try to knock the Don off
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| Not too much talk, niggas just pop off
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| Got that feelin' inside, who willin' to ride?
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| Aight here, take this Four-Five
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| Cardboard box these niggas off sides
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| Rap nigga live, rap niggas alive
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| That nigga high, gangsta stroll, stackin' to the sky
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| Poppin' his collar nigga, tossin' that dollar
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| Act up, blood clot his throat, make it hard to swallow
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| Used to pitch times holdin' trotters
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| Now I pitch 16's with the culture power saga
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| You sorry, don’t bother, Q.B. |
| to Carter
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| Rucker, Nino, Goodfella, Godfather
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| Verse 3: (Littles)
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| Came home after 5, stood on my own two
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| I learned to seperate Men from Boys and crews
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| I toy with dudes, now I’m just annoyed with fools
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| I’m a pimp on a track with another Mans food
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| I refuse to be whored by another Mans rules
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| It’s a pimp and ho game, you gotta respect the business
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| But I only mob with thugs and gangsta niggas
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| It seems nowadays snitches get respect
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| Ya’ll don’t know a real nigga 'till he’s layed to rest?
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| Ya’ll lucky I ain’t come home chasin' necks
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| Arms, legs, chests, blazin' tecks
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| Cause I love to snap, crackle, and pop them hammers
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| Rock bandanas, cop wanna knock and jam us
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| Watch and slam us, locked up, box and canners
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| Cause when I start lickin' all you niggas start snitchin'
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| Bitchin', little niggas start missin'
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| We provide ya’ll with the truth and facts
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| Ya’ll don’t wanna give me burn with these ruthless raps
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| Shit, I’ll bounce ya’ll ass straight off the tracks
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| Plus I roll with gorillas and I’m true to cats
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| Verse 4: (Nature)
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| All I need is a kick and a snare, ya’ll niggas scared
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| My name speaks for itself, it rains as soon as it hits the air
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| Got a wicked stare, one eye crossed
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| In Queens fiends returnin' every gun I toss
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| Every dun I corpse, my religion is none
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| I figured once I lay it out niggas 'll run
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| I could type it up e-mail
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| And give it to you, when you’re done you’re comin' back for a refill
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| Grade A shit, like the taste of the haze and the dro
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| I rock the same Guess jeans five days in a row
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| See my Thirty-Six waist is now Thirty-Eight
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| Quick to help a nigga up to the pearly gates
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| Makin' sure every other live nigga heard of Nate
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| Guaranteed to boost the murder rate
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| If it don’t it will niggas, chill just give it some time
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| How much pain can a nigga provide?
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| Ya’ll niggas rhyme? |