| This the Official Pistol Gang, I put my mother on it
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| If I got beef, I ain’t got beef, my brother on it
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| I just punch you in the face for nothing, I love the conflict
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| And all my grown New York brothers be gunning Spofford
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| Vinnie God-sent, I’m what Allah meant
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| Gucci frames, wild nerdy, call him Clark Kent
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| Me and Jus sat together on the park bench
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| And said if it wasn’t money then it was nonsense
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| Keep steadily finding ways to stay better
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| You don’t fight, you ducking fights, you Mayweather
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| Anyway you wanna put it butcher, slay, sever
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| You looking like Eddie in Delirious, gay leather
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| You arguing over who the best is but it’s me though
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| I’m arguing over who was better Ozzy and Dio
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| Bruce Dickinson, Paul Di’Anno? |
| Ay, dios mio
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| Mel Gibson a racist and Rick Ross is a CO
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| One’s for more liquor, two’s for more liquor
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| Honestly it’s my everything, I adore liquor
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| One’s for more trees, two’s for more trees
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| Honestly it’s my everything, I adore trees
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| Yo there’s more to life than guns and pleasure
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| It’s just till I find something better
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| But I ain’t ever gonna find a trunk of sunken treasure
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| I’m a troublemaker, not a fucking double-major
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| I love being with slug-traders and drug-takers
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| I have an attitude, my gun has a gattitude
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| We ain’t trying to just have gas and fast food
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| I’m with high rollers and pistol holders
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| Gotta stay away from eye-rollers and whistle-blowers
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| If I ever come in contact with them motherfuckers
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| Contact a couple bloodsuckers and shovellers
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| I’m filled with the hate of jihadists and mass-murderers
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| Don’t affiliate with pickpockets and cat burglars
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| Gotta keep my guard up, had a lot of hard luck
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| All I got is money for the bars and Starbucks
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| But why spend cash on snacks and SunChips?
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| When I can spend a stack on gats and gun clips |