| I represent myself and my own defense
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| Innocent by reason of no evidence
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| Plus they’re tryin' pick the punishment the judge insists
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| My fingerprints were traced back to six gun clips
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| Cop witness, who try and testify on my click
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| He on the payroll that’s why I got my prior dismissed
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| This is framework, somehow they got ahold of my flick
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| The night in question, I was restin' home with my chick
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| Then the spot was blown, cops rushed in, shots were blown
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| I jetted out the lab with socks and boxers on
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| Undercover chased me down for three weeks
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| He ceased to interrogate like I might speak
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| But no, I won’t tell ya who I work for
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| And no, I won’t tell ya who the work’s for
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| You can hit me with the book, brick, hammer and all
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| I dig a tunnel or just scale the jailhouse wall
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| Your honor.
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| True me ???
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| Dem a see me push weight and dem claim dem see me, dem try frame me
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| But me nah snitch, they try and test me me bust my clip
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| Me on de blunts all de time and de gyal dem a wine
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| True dem Rebel I and I, we bust down de sign
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| Try frame me but nah me nah snitch
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| They try test me me bust my clip
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| They got me framed, locked and chained
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| Cuz some lame on the block was slain
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| Cops came but I ain’t pop a flame
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| Hear me ya honor? |
| I ain’t dropped a thing
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| I was cuffed, they told me that somebody dropped my name
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| And the time they tryin' to match me with is not the same
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| I was knocked from 8:00 to the time the shot went rang
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| When I woke up, I smoked up and watched the game
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| Then I laid up with my bitch and got rocked with brain
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| Release me from this Elymer Fudd shit, the glove don’t fit
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| Too tall for the cop description and slugs don’t fit
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| He was hit with a nine right? |
| I bust slugs with a fifth
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| You got any of my D.N.A. |
| or blood up in this bitch?
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| I’m not the guy aligned to fall, this not my crime at all
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| You lock me up, I’m climbin' the wall
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| You want me scapegoat, so stay close, alliance will call
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| With some grimy niggas schemin' on the shines in the hall
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| Fuck that, you and the D.A. |
| spit-shine our balls
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| You can catch up with me some other time, from mines to yours
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| Come on a plea bargain for what, your honor?
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| Nah yo I ain’t do shit, the only thing I’m coppin' is a new whip
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| The night it happened I was lampin' at a deuce flick with two chicks
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| Kim and Chris, we guzzle Cris' on some Rush Hour 2 shit
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| I knew the kid, yeah we had problems, yeah I robbed him
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| Now it’s '98 though and the handgun was a revolver
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| You tryin' to play me on an old case but I hold no weight
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| Turned myself in, I skated on them keystone jakes
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| Right description, right Killa, wrong case, I didn’t hit him
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| Here’s the verdict, not guilty, not tryin' to see a prison
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| Got my life on the line, you wanna grind me through ya system
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| And have my family and my wiz cryin', I miss 'em
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| You buggin', you the same judge that framed K with the drugs
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| Somebody came up dead and now you wanna blame us?
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| This shit is too much, aiyo before you screw us
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| I’ll grab the bailiff’s gun and light this whole room up |