| There’s no subliminals, I don’t be boxing in my songs
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| If I hate you, then I should put you in a box where you belong
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| But half you niggas pussy like you might be rockin' thongs
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| Any time when I get locked, even when cops was in the wrong
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| What I do? |
| Call my lawyer, up out of the box up in the morning
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| I was a young, dirty nigga with a Glock up in my palm
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| Now I’m a rich, dirty nigga with some rocks up in my charm
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| Snakes up in the grass, then we choppin' down the lawn
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| Fucker, big choppers in the foreign
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| I’m vicious in the game, ain’t no stoppin' me from scorin'
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| Ace of Spades championship, poppin' and pourin'
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| If they call, tell 'em call back, it’s really not that important
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| I’m speakin' right now, I need you, pay me attention
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| I used to cut class, I didn’t want no attention
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| So chill, little mama, you don’t need none of this
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| I’m ill, little mama, hundred G’s each wrist
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| So when I throw up gang signs, two hundred G’s in my flick
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| I been ready to die like B.I.G. |
| was in this bitch, nigga |