| Ciphers in front of The Apollo as a shorty
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| Now I got a clip full of hollows in the.40
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| Louis, Guccis, every now and then Mauris
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| I take too long to come back, send for me
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| Know how to work it, big things pop on the underground circuit
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| Maintain 'til it surface
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| The nerve of these peasants
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| Treat a rap budget like a bird how I stretch it
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| Think they get the message
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| Waters, Dutchies, lot of herb in a session
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| So-called tough guys, herbs with aggression
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| Put your thoughts all over the curb with the Wesson
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| What used to be superb now is depressing
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| Negative energy
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| Generated from the snakes and the centipedes
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| You will remember me
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| I just get the storm started
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| Cold-blooded, warm-hearted
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| Either way you on target
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| Move to the side, let the lane merge
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| The gun’s like fried rice, who want they brain stirred?
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| Enter the limelight, lemon drop-top off of crime life
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| Always see the crew in the hindsight
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| Yeah!
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| American sedan, the shooters got Berettas in their hand
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| This is Mafia, veterans’ll plan
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| Word to the tape on the brick, this is raw
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| I’m in the 4×4, 8 plus 8 in the clip
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| The hustling Harry Potter, shaking the brick
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| Ice in the bracelet give the Matrix a glitch
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| And my car’s like a spaceship
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| Got gold in my Nike checks
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| Jordans got ice in the laces
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| Pants got a gun where the waist is
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| It’s basic, shirt smell like herb smoke
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| Chirp, yo, Chirp back
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| Let me know who getting murked, though
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| Yeah, we getting money, nigga
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| Who getting work, though
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| And I got the Kush, nigga
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| I got the Purple, move squares
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| 'Cause we got a hold on the circle
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| Kill you or hurt you, whatever’s a virtue
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| Beat you like ya parents when you breaking your curfew
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| Homie, live life to the death
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| We gonna make it to the top, just one more step
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| Get this money, it don’t matter if it’s cash or check
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| We gonna make it to the top, just one more step
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| Big houses, cars and jewels that’s wet
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| We gonna make it to the top, just one more step
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| To the family, friends, whole life is set
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| We gonna make it to the top, just one more step, one more step
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| Yo, living my life, what’s left of it
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| Don’t try to go to jail but if you do make the best of it
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| If you crash into a bullet then it ain’t no estimate
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| It’s a money-back guarantee, my nigga
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| Death’s a definite
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| This is audio crack, guess who’s cheffing it
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| Jadakiss and SP, do this effortless
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| Gun play make you do whatever son say
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| If the Lord send you a flight, the ticket is one-way
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| Put that work in when you young, you get power
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| The money don’t match the running it get sour
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| Still rep the hood to the death
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| A promise is only good if it’s kept
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| Niggas’ll kill you for less
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| Silence is golden, go 'head, keep dozing
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| The window of opportunity keeps closing
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| We gon' see if you really a clutch baller
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| A cell is small, but a casket is much smaller
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| Burn out 30 a set shit, 60 a Key shit
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| That’s street shit, Jada & P shit
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| Lambos, hoopties, shooters and groupies
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| Montclair, D-Squared, Emilio Pucci
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| Long trips, short trips, making me nauseous
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| Court shit, gave them Jews money for Porsches
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| Made a couple mil for the small shit
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| We rap and keep raw, so we on some street lore-Forbes shit
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| Wall still spin, upgraded the floor flip
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| Ain’t touch it, ain’t see it, ain’t hear about it
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| If it’s money gone, believe we gon' care about
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| Send some niggas to your crib, take the air up out it
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| Leave some blood up in it
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| Listen, fam, the Lam’s the color of toast
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| The seats is like butter in it
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| No hammers in the club, box cutter in it
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| Long money and big checks
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| Get popped in the chest, face, wig, neck
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| Tre Pound, Sig, Tec
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| Play the game, get a plane is ya ship wreck
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| Learn from the best if you ain’t learn shit yet
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| Yeah! |
| Motherfucker |