| Anything can happen
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| Don’t stop, huh, ha, huh, uh, yeah, shit
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| (Buckshot, Ice-T)
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| Buckshot, he be the emcee
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| What, watch your step
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| (Buckshot Shorty)
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| Can I hear it for Buckshot? |
| (Buckshot)
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| Buck’s hot, spell it and yell it but the shit don’t stop
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| It be hot, y’all niggas is worthless in the money market
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| I’m buck you ain’t worth shit, nigga what?
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| Think about it, shorty what you drivin' stoned by your daddy
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| Oops, you almost had me, geesed up until I saw the truth
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| And one day I see you standin' at a token booth
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| It was on a hot wet night, I think it was a Saturday
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| Right after that party that he lead out down the way
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| Gunshots spread — everyday, all day (fuck!)
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| D.T.'s rushed the party in 2K
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| Buck — The Beef be — fled the scene right before the cops
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| And the Swats came with the triple beam
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| Uh, shit is real you know how we do when the young niggas peel out
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| Don’t squeal (*undecipherable*)
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| (Ice-T)
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| If you niggas don’t know you should know by now
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| Ice got more game than the law allows
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| Straight up — the biggest baller in the industry
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| Went straight from pimpin' hoes on the NBC
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| Do you feel me? |
| I dealed it, ace off the bottom
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| Ho’s got 'em, I’m the one you just can’t fade
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| Rolex in the tenth grade, hair was laid
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| Everything I wore to school baby was tailor made
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| Shot dice in the bathroom on my knees
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| I’ll roll across the break and break that ass with these
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| Start hittin' jewel-liks, re-investin' in ki’s
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| Drop the top on the flo', let you feel the breeze
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| (Buckshot Shorty)
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| Trees make my eyes bleed I come from an ill breed
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| Thoroughbred born from a strong seed
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| Led by a bunch of individuals (Ali)
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| Uh, criminals to generals — this is like wow!
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| Look at how my brain ay blew you out the frames
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| Twist of fate cause you say the same shit now
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| The Local Mobb Grill and let y’all niggas know I’m dead
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| I’m serious, somebody can get killed
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| Wait for the fire drill and when you start to smell the smoke
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| Run nigga Buck ain’t no joke I’ll buck a shot at your zipped up coat
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| Chop the throat like a blow from Judo, nigga you know
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| (Ice-T)
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| Is it new year God? |
| I’m comin' back mad-hard
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| Movin' harder than a convict with a shack in the yard
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| New Jacks wanna hear me rap beggin' for freestyle skills
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| I’ve served so many rappers I can make a land field fool
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| You’ve doubt for a mic dude, the Ice is a jewel
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| Fuck rules, I got more pool than a mule
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| Matter of fact, never comprehend the styles I sin
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| I’ve been breakin', annihilate fakes and tens
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| See I’m a nigga from the West Side cheered I peel libs
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| What prayin' that you do hill when I all ready did
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| Like your girl gotta admit she was a sexy bitch
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| But I hit it with the Gin so my nuts don’t itch
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| (Whta, what, what?)
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| (Buckshot Shorty)
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| Buck’s got ya locked, body drawn like pit bulls
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| We don’t give a fuck if we have to pull, click, shit
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| Brooklyn niggas is known to rep-resent
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| Any nigga happened that’s why I left
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| Niggas get strep-throats, throats get strepped
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| Get your shit taken then your shit is kept
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| Uh, shit in a step, if not got your back broke
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| Plus ya jaw tapped, snapped your 'Adams Ap'
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| It’s just a fact that niggas ain’t shit
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| Ain’t shit like Egyptians, nigga trippin'
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| Beenie-eyed, never slippin', I’m grippin' the four-twenty
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| Motherfuck the bullshit talk — where the money?
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| Years ago, a friend of me ask me to start up a company
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| Duck Down’s the name, rap music is the aim
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| Lyrically I bring the pain and lock the game with no padlock and chain
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| Some said that Buck went bust
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| But when I came out, I left 'em all in the dust
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| Look at your sound scam, original brown man
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| Makin' million everytime I drop a jam
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| (Ice-T)
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| Nigga duck, DJ drop the cut, huh
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| 250 niggas throw they sets up
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| L.A. style, nigga what? |
| (West Side!!)
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| If you’ve never seen it before they’ll put a knot in your gut
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| Stand up, check your areas your group, your troops
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| These gang killers is real plus they, off the loot
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| Proceedin' to leave a nigga bleedin'
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| They love to fuck up in a frenzy, let fuckin' sharks feed me
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| Bitches start screamin' and stampedin'
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| Thank God it’s evening, I didn’t leave the burner in the B. M
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| Where my nigga Buck, nobody seen him
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| Probably in the Eye Of The Storm where the ill perform, perform, perform… |