| Yeah! |
| Yeah! |
| Yeah!
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| Fuck y’all niggas talkin 'bout huh?
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| Get it right, you faggot niggas heard Suge Knight
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| Double R’s the only niggas he respect and, y’all niggas shook right?
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| y’all get on Hot 97 and, talk wit a baritone
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| wit two niggas downstairs wit? |
| licensed guns? |
| to take y’all home
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| scared ass niggas, you think they gon take a life so they can get life
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| ask Puff they aint tryin to hear that nigga
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| for no cake, and y’all can get at us on Labor Day
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| we make stones that say? |
| your moms labor day
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| I’m in the hood so we can link up, any place you think of handheld don’t hold prints plus I burnt the tip of my fingers
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| I’m a Bronx gangsta nigga, double R’s hoodrat
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| the nigga they come get quick bitch, on this hood shit
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| Y’all bitches think the ryders a joke, well I don’t play
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| I blow you whole fuckin shit up like Tim McVeigh
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| gimme the needle, not tomorrow, but today
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| Cross comin y’all better get the fuck out the way
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| I aint the shit that you see that’s on the top of your church
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| I put a bomb in your baby carriage, brick through your hearse
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| Tell your CEO, don’t call my CEO apologizin
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| I’m at your wake in the choir standin harmonizin
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| It’s Infa-Red the shit that be on top of the heater
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| The best thing in New York since Steinbrenner signed Jeter
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| hold Camby sister the hostage, then send 'em a reef
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| so stop frontin vegetarian just scared of beef
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| Yo, ay suck my dick bitch, the way this chick spit ridickliss
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| Here we go again, only we on Kiss shit
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| we comin and you keep runnin
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| you keep claimin you the best that done it pussy let me see somethin
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| fake niggas screamin Ryde or Die
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| same niggas we run up on and make 'em cry
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| outta all the camps in this game, nigga
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| we the champs in this game
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| who kick the real shit before the fame
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| fuck you fat ass, fake bad ass niggas
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| still play the hood while you ride past niggas
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| coward trust me, we keep it gutter
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| hope you stay mad a hater cuz you can’t touch us, huh
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| It’s time I see you…
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| Ayo, I aint got a care in the world
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| Kidnappin your kid, maimin your mom, and airin your girl
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| and like, you aint got a care in the world
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| I’m hopeless and numb, I can’t see but I can focus my gun
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| and I’m down for smokin blunts to the head
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| my nerves is shot, my paces is short, I dump in your head
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| I’m the hardest nigga out you outta know it by now
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| I’m the nigga that they talk about goin to Chao
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| and my name ring bells, my blade stay bloody
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| if you heard about me beefin dog I leave the most shells
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| the nigga to salute, the quickest to shoot
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| Holiday Styles, motherfucker, givin you pound
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| What? |
| Like I won’t run up and break your jaw
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| like they make a vest for your head to stop the 4
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| I’m tired of rappin, let’s get the mack and send niggas on vacation
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| right in front of the radio station
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| motherfuckers aint quiet til the tech go off
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| arteries hitted, hawkin, they neck is shit
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| I’m the motherfuckin hardest
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| I smack the shit out of any one of your artists
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| whatever the label
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| y’all niggas don’t want beef, y’all want meat at the table
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| and I don’t give a fuck, Sheek’ll do life in the box
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| before any of y’all bitch niggas front on the LOX
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| What? |
| Motherfuckers, c’mon
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| Yo, If I miss your head and your neck, I’ll hurt your chest
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| if you from the streets betrayal is worse than death
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| and I’m known for gettin money, not known for wildin
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| but I’m real I could rock both phones in the island
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| this is how we even the bets
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| I kill everything you love dog, right now, even the pets
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| everything got dubs on it, even the vets
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| 50 close, then 50 wide, even the sets
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| cuz the bullets is like calisthenics when I’m squirtin
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| when they start hurtin, that means they workin
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| only way we comin is hard
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| industry is like jail nigga, double R’s runnin the yard, uh |