| Welcome back to the East Side
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| T-Funk and the Chemist
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| Jayo Felony
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| And the ultimate shit right now
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| Is for me to do a show for my niggas in the pen
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| Bring shit together
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| Cause this is where we’ll all be
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| Peep game
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| I rolls off with your shit, people you can get a glance
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| Shackles on my feet won’t let the Loco dance
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| Eatin em spreads and liftin got me on swoll
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| Had my shit creased, I’m comin home, I got parole
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| When the Loco phone ring it’s my homie Big Mike Low
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| (?) and big dick dada wanna stroke
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| And get my balls licked, dick sucked and fuck till I’m yawnin
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| But I gotta go report in the mornin
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| Fuck it, 8:30 am piss in his cup, fuck a piss test
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| Mr. Bullet Loco, you’re under arrest (for what?)
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| You popped (?) test and do you understand?
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| They put the chains on my ass and put me in the fuckin van
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| I’m goin straight to Donovan, no county jail
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| Fuckin parole violation, so I can’t make bail
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| The iron bars close, goddamn I hate the sound
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| But you don’t give a fuck when you’re penitentiary bound
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| Sit down nigga, it’s time to count
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| The way they got shit now
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| Everybody’s penitentiary bound
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| (?) come, come, nigga, give me room
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| I put acid on my tongue and go the fuck back to Neptune
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| Who wanna beef with the East Side Rollin
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| Hey, get your jaw swollen
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| This is for every nigga that ever fucked with a high speed chase
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| Crashed into a pole, now take that glass out your face
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| They comin to get me yo, I don’t give a fuck no mo
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| I’m (?) got the .44, Bullet Loc will dodge the po-po
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| On the 619 we got no time, for the bullshit you get jacked
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| Every hood talk that set-up when you hit the railroad track
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| Matter of fact, don’t let them cook you like no fuckin hog, chief
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| All I see is billy clubs, boots and dog teeth
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| Fuck your mama as I bled on the ground
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| I’m hand-cuffed to the bed and I know I’m penitentiary bound
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| Sit down nigga, it’s time to count
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| The way they got shit now
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| Everybody’s penitentiary bound
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| I’m crushin these niggas and bitches
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| Cause see, nobody I ever trusted
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| I hope Joe Sinister don’t get his ass busted
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| Come again coward, wash them draws for my men
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| You don’t know how to deal with the Babylon and Rin Tin Tin
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| Hard (?) hard, I come hard
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| Like Oprah in _Color Purple_ I know there is a God
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| I slaughter, you oughta run for the border
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| I cripple a stick, choke a brick and tryin to drop a water
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| Supporter of this mackin and this gangsta shit
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| Much love to Kurupt and the Dogg Pound click
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| From D.C. to NYC trust I smoke dust
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| I roll with Rush, niggas can say what they must
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| They all want to know how I feel about _The Show_
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| I’m rockin in Utah (?) and drink Pruno
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| P-p-pa-pow, penitentiary bound
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| (?) the muthafuckin (?) bitin my sound
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| Will I ever play out? |
| Nigga, you know — never would
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| At the end of the world it’s gon be dippin through the neighborhood
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| To be continued |