| It was a Saturday night on the streets of Cali
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| Threw on my dope silk suit, brushed off my suede Bally’s
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| Threw on enough gold for any girl’s pleasure
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| Left a pound and a half of that shit still in the dresser
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| I slapped a clip in my nine, threw a clip in my sock
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| Hit three grand up off the dresser, it was ten on the dot
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| Now my beeper started beepin, I threw that shit in the sink
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| I didn’t need it no more, I had more money than Prince
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| See, I was quittin the game and tonight was my fling
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| You see, on the streets they’re players but only one king
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| Now that’s the title I held but the game is real fast
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| You gotta get in and get out if you expectin to last
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| Now my homeboy Evil was downstairs chillin in his brand new Benz
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| I had many adversaries but very few close friends
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| We broke to the set, E parked the car on the grass
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| High-signin was his trademark and he did it with class
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| Hit the door like two titans, the whole jam stopped to stare
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| And as we walked through the crowd they threw bills in the air
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| I spied my man Jazz maxin out with two stone cold freaks
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| «Yo, what’s up Ice, you rich now, man, you too good to speak?»
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| Now Jazz was a player from the east coast, the Bronx
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| He was known to be hard on the women and a brother he’d stomp
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| Smack a bitch in a minute, some say just for fun
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| And he was known for his chrome-plated pearl-handled gun
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| «Yo Ice, you my brother and I love you and all
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| But what’s up with that six g’s you owe me, man
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| …'member when your boys took that fall?
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| And I posted the bail cause yo ass was locked up»
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| Evil gave Jazz ten g’s and Jazz shut the fuck up
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| Just then I saw Donald-D hit the front door
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| More gold than a Aztec, black leather he wore
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| Hoes grabbed for they niggas when D hit the set
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| Cause what Donald-D wanted is what Donald-D'd get
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| Donald’s eyes hit mine and a smile crossed his face
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| Then a light hit his ring and blinded the whole goddamn place
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| «Yo Ice, you the coolest and Evil, you mean
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| But I got the fliest new shit rollin off gasoline»
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| Everyone in the party moved quickly outside
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| To see Donald-D's ultimate Superfly ride
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| It was black, it was low, cost twice that of my Porsche
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| A Testarossa Ferrari — convertable of course
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| It purred like a jet, «Yo man, I bought it with cash»
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| It had 'Donald-D' written in gold on the dash
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| Then out of nowhere came a shot across the street
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| I felt pain in my chest and my knees got weak
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| There was blood on my hands and I fell to the ground
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| And all I could hear was, «Yo, Ice is down!»
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| Somebody had shot me that night that I quit
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| The night that I ended all this hustlin playin shit
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| It’s ironic ain’t it, the night I retired
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| Would be the same night that my whole life expired |