| You didn’t even get paid for that, huh?
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| Ah nah, man, you got to get yours
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| Paid in full
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| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
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| And once I get my royalty check, you can kiss my mistletoe
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| Coagulating, nigga, we gellin'
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| Rebel yellin', edutating, the world is ours
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| Control something, it ain’t enough just to hold something
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| You know the half, I want the whole sum
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| Circumscribing with live shit
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| So when my rivals arrive, they never get the chance to see inside
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| The all-seeing-eye, seeking, blinking, blinging, bringing forth
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| A meeting of the tribal chieftans
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| Me and my brothers pow-wow and building
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| Trying to turn these thou-wows to millions
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| Gracefully bow out, until then
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| Basically, ain’t nobody safe
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| We body snatch over body breaks ‘til everybody ache
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| And you can tell by the paper plates
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| Things of that nature take papes
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| So we take steps to manifest and move, true
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| Eye, wide, on the scene, sing
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| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
|
| And once I get my royalty check, you can kiss my mistletoe
|
| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
|
| And once I get my royalty check, you can kiss my mistletoe
|
| Ay, remember the perimeter when high off the indica
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| Any sentence’ll injure ya
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| I’m Cold Crush, in Cali, the gold rush in alleys
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| Don’t scuff the Ballys
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| A whole plush Denali will roll up and down thee
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| We make moves like the Men in Black
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| Catch us where the women at
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| Swimming in the similac—stay milky, dumb filthy
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| Lawyers who defend the niggas they know guilty
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| Rhyme practitioner curing the rap listeners
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| Supplying black prisoners with Kit Kats and Twizzlers
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| It isn’t us, who see ‘em?
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| I’ll have that ass in a museum, exhibit at 2 PM
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| Scraping a blue BM, rocking the BluBlockers
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| With bullets strapped to my chest like Chewbacca’s
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| With true rockers, guns in the school lockers
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| Who’ll stop us when we doing the do caucus?
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| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
|
| And once I get my royalty check, y’all can kiss my mistletoe
|
| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
|
| And once I get my royalty check, y’all can kiss my mistletoe
|
| Arbuckle, you must wanna see my knuckles
|
| I’m ‘bout flow and dough, I ain’t foolin' with y’all punk hoes
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| Yeah buddy, with money, I’m a quick study
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| If it get muddy, y’all muhfuckas should get from me
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| (That's real too)
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| I’m tryna get mo' from Bed-Stuy to the O
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| All the way to where they driving on the left side of the road
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| You best got what I’m owed
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| Stack it, bag it, double street platinum
|
| Believe that’s chips, boy
|
| I shift your thirty-third vertebrae with my wordplay
|
| Tricked your early bird brain, still thinking the worm came
|
| We move packages and stack cabbages
|
| For NASDAQ averages to increase to the maximus
|
| We taking interstellar trips when we get the cheddar
|
| Ending any vendetta now that we living better
|
| We met, too Netter, and make musical medicine
|
| Back together again, Hieroglyphics better, it go…
|
| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
|
| And once I get my royalty check, y’all can kiss my mistletoe
|
| It go jingle, jangle, jingle for the po'
|
| And once I get my royalty check, y’all can kiss my mistletoe
|
| Jingle, bring your team, go mingle
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| Jangle, hang, y’all do your thang, feels tranquil
|
| Same deal
|
| Diablo drill through hollowed skulls for the dollar bill
|
| Call it willpower, now you witness real power
|
| When you put it down for the cause and don’t cower
|
| Allow a, moment so we could soak in
|
| A token, of esteem, now go get the cream
|
| It’s all good, or so it seems, so no extremes
|
| Know what I mean? |
| I’m flowing on a solar beam
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| Coming through a magnifying glass that’ll fly and pass
|
| Mad amount of mass when Hiero album crash
|
| Like a tidal wave, like a title page
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| Describe a whole life divided on hype
|
| From lowlifes who hold spiteful vengeance
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| Nah, you know it’s no time for pretending |