| Extra, extra
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| Extra, extra
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| Hear all about it
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| Ja Rule has just been elected the President…
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| Of the united ghetto’s of Emerica
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| And this is what he had to say at presstime
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| At press time this is what Ja Rule had to say
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| America…
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| Welcome to Emerica
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| (Don't hate me) Cuz I done made this world what it’s gon be
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| Welcome to Emerica
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| (Don't hate me) Cuz I done made this world what it’s done to me
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| Niggas, if I could pledge my allegiance to the, United Ghettoes
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| Of the Emerica, go on sell ya drugs
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| Cuttin taxes for strippers and thugs
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| It’s all good, room for mayor in all hood and as well I should
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| I make it publicly desmist understood
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| When they caught me gettin high in the back of the ho-tel
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| Was you freakin them ho’s?
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| Well, I just say I was gettin a lil head but so what
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| Bill and Hillery stay for them stills
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| That’s a down ass bitch for ya
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| Wash em with some soap and water
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| And return them dirty bra’s to their rightful owner
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| Now that’s creep shit
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| One over one, I got this broad on the one-o-one
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| She’s botherin, so don’t even come up in here
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| Cuz shes contious, no nonsense
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| She like to choke on the dick, and the lungs on the constant
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| Gettin the W1's you church girl
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| Proda stant, it’s aiight ma you rollin wit the Inc
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| Yeah I’m here can you tell?
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| Mo' niggas livin, livin in ??? |
| in Emerica
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| I’m never gonna feel, Nigga I’m tellin ya
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| Young Life is a compeditor
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| And is into real my niggas headed up hill
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| I’m lettin you know shit’s real
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| I came into the game copped a deal
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| Aimin to get this shit still
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| It ain’t been a minute I ain’t been high
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| And I haven’t handled my buisness
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| How I been fuckin you bitches right
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| Yeah you witnesses my life
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| Imperial night, in the ghetto holdin my medal tight
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| Still, in Emerica
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| Remilitary is terror nigga holds his medal
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| Of his never be availible
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| That easy I’m a editor, restin up with the best of em
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| Minds of them bitches that stress givin em hard sex
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| I’m set for life, the lightin ho’s that write
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| And hit the mic, not over night
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| You get the gift to be the best of something like
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| (Enough in Emerica) Young Life is comin home
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| Motherfuckers prepare to die
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| Niggas hit that crack houses hustlers and hoes
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| No youngins up on the corners nigga smokin them bones
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| I’m rattin away wit knots comin up, what’s no pills?
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| That’s why they’ll find your ass slumped in the blacks of ville
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| But still, I spot that paper Jo, Blowin my weed
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| And ain’t a thing a mother need is gotta be me
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| But now days these lil youngins rollin on E
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| And a nigga that supplyin that is who runs the streets
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| Now look, this ain’t no crack day
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| I gotsa come up on the stash and get back man
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| Cuz I done witness all this shit that they say them ho’s do
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| Fuckin wit X, like finger fuckin that hot Glock
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| While she swallow her tit
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| But real, there nigga want his dick sucked?
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| Bitches is why bitches turn that rehold into a intrick (It's pimp shit)
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| No limp dick, just a gangsta fuck
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| Why the murder put some major bust biatch
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| Welcome to Emerica… |