| Geah, make a move y’all
 | 
| Which part you wan' lose?
 | 
| The clip is loaded, the quatro is on cruise
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| I’m back to work bitch, the clock off snooze
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| I’m tougher than leather nigga I cannot bruise
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| Who wanna try a nigga?
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| Hard to the God, come and butterfly a nigga (hold that!)
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| Ooze on out (uh-huh)
 | 
| Weeks later bitch go and throw your shoes on out
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| I’m that shit that great Mario Puzo 'bout
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| Clear this out, blood on the hopscotch floor
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| Shells in the sandbox; | 
| niggas with big Glocks
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| Late night, movin that junk, like Redd Foxx
 | 
| Now, you don’t want nothin about me (nah)
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| You pussy, nigga come fuck with the alkie
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| Weed smokin, keep the cancer piece on it (yeah!)
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| Call hoes, get pussy whenever I want it (c'mere bitch)
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| Mack daddy (no) pimp daddy (no)
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| Hammer cocked (yeah) let that, go
 | 
| I ain’t heard shit in a long long time
 | 
| To even fuck around with either one of my rhymes (Sheek Louch!)
 | 
| Niggas still livin off the petty-ass crimes
 | 
| The Hossa hater, Lacoste gator
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| Levi’s, hundred to the Mr. Chow waiter
 | 
| Whattup street niggas? | 
| Hold heat niggas
 | 
| FUCK sweet niggas, you’ll get beat niggas (yeah!)
 | 
| Now who out there wanna fuck around with me?
 | 
| You can come and get a fresh buck-50
 | 
| We got guns, money, liquor, drugs
 | 
| We right here until they come get me (I'm talkin 'bout murder)
 | 
| Now who out there wanna fuck around with me?
 | 
| You can come and get a fresh buck-50
 | 
| We got guns, money, liquor, drugs
 | 
| We right here until they come get me
 | 
| C’mon, yeah. | 
| ah-HAH! | 
| Nobody
 | 
| C’mon, yeah, c’mon, yeah, c’mon, yeah, yeah, uhh, yo
 | 
| Yo listen here, you ain’t dead if your heart ain’t stop
 | 
| Twin 40's, you ain’t gotta ask «Are they cocked?»
 | 
| I’m so sharp I could come through and scar they block
 | 
| Late night, red linin in an R8 drop
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| — And I’m only tuckin them until I shoot ya
 | 
| When I pull 'em out that’s when I’m fuckin with your future
 | 
| You gon' realize this is nothin that you’re used to
 | 
| Get your life tooken by a booster, then we gon' hang the noose up
 | 
| — It's all over with (yeah)
 | 
| — All they found was his Louis scarf with his DNA all over it (mm)
 | 
| — Who's choosin and pickin them (who?)
 | 
| Cause I’m sick of them, not followin the curriculum (yeah)
 | 
| It’s my shit and I’m evictin them (get out)
 | 
| Whoever feel like they ain’t gotta leave — I’m rippin them
 | 
| Even though the love’s frail the thug’s real
 | 
| All you gotta do is just follow the blood trail
 | 
| Much harder fightin when the battle is uphill
 | 
| — Whatever the knife can’t handle the slug will
 | 
| Keep a good lawyer that’s smart work on cases
 | 
| Still gotta run from the NARCs, they gon' chase us (run)
 | 
| In case I gotta put some artwork on faces
 | 
| If we leave the game for God they gon' +Mase+ us
 | 
| My suggestion, is that you don’t even test son
 | 
| Unless you wanna catch a fresh one
 | 
| Now who out there wanna fuck around with me?
 | 
| You can come and get a fresh buck-50
 | 
| We got guns, money, liquor, drugs
 | 
| We right here until they come get me (I'm talkin 'bout murder)
 | 
| Now who out there wanna fuck around with me?
 | 
| You can come and get a fresh buck-50
 | 
| We got guns, money, liquor, drugs
 | 
| We right here until they come get me
 | 
| Yeah, yeah, yeah!
 | 
| Let’s go |