| Why you cuddle it a hard I sleep with the four
|
| Official Pistol Gang, we be the reapers of war
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| It doesn’t mean that you’re welcome, cause you’re kicking the door
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| I’m the boss, why you filing grievances for?
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| Graph writers use the thump out toys
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| Keep em both eyes open for them jump out boys
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| I will body motherfuckers if they pump that noise
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| Been down since Disco 3, become fat boys
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| Let me fall back, let me take a sip at the bar
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| Cause Vinnie in the hood like I’m fixing your car
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| I’m the overlord, I don’t need permission from y’all
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| I get a migraine every time I listen to y’all
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| Listen, y’all ain’t never living the best
|
| With em hollow tip bullets spit quicker than Ritz
|
| The nine always concealed, I’m letting his bitch breathe
|
| Your body gonna be mistaken for Swiss cheese
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| The front and the back, what you want? |
| Where you at?
|
| When my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap
|
| Where the blunt? |
| Where the gat?
|
| Where the funk? |
| Where the strap?
|
| When my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap
|
| This another hell storm, point blank, male born
|
| The ambulance take you away and not care gone
|
| Dirt weed in a backpack full of Krylon
|
| Move rock for y’all without seeing the pylon
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| None of y’all could ever be on the level that I’m on
|
| Traveling trajectories with crystals made of ion
|
| Jeffrey Hunter need to find another place to die on
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| I don’t know what drugs y’all motherfuckers high on
|
| Whoever told you, you should do it, gave you bad advice
|
| I’mma put a few in you then blast you in the afterlife
|
| You ain’t even half as nice, bloodier than passion Christ
|
| You want a body? |
| Give me a pen, a bottle and glass of ice
|
| I’mma do it my way, fish and edamame
|
| Chase of every fine glass of wine with a latte
|
| My music age well like it’s related to Shadai
|
| Vinnie put a few shots into you like Bombay
|
| The front and the back, what you want? |
| Where you at?
|
| When my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap
|
| Where the blunt? |
| Where the gat?
|
| Where the funk? |
| Where the strap?
|
| When my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap |