| This is what, this what they want, huh?
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| This is what it’s all about?
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| Time to take Affirmative Action, son
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| They just don’t understand, you kna’mean?
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| Niggas comin' sideways, thinkin' stuff is sweet, man
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| Niggas don’t understand the four devils
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| Lust, envy, hate, jealousy—wicked niggas, man
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| Yo, sit back, relax, catch your contact
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| Sip your con-gi-ac
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| And let’s all wash this money through this laundromat
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| Sneak attack, the new cats in rap worth top dollar
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| In fact, touch mines and I’ll react like a Rottweiler
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| Who could relate? |
| We play for high stakes at gunpoint
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| Catch 'em and break
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| Undress 'em, tie 'em with tape, no escape
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| The Corleone, fettuccine Capone
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| Roam in your own zone
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| Or get kidnapped and clapped in your dome
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| We got it sewn, The Firm art of war is unknown
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| Lower your tone, face it, homicide cases get thrown
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| Aristocrats, politickin' daily with diplomats
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| See me, I’m an official mack, Lex Coupe triple black
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| Criminal thoughts in the blue Porsche
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| My destiny’s to be the new boss
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| That nigga Paulie gotta die, he too soft
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| That nigga’s dead on, a ki of heroin
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| They found his head on the couch with his dick in his mouth
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| I put the hit out
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| Yo, the smoothest killer since Bugsy, bitches love me
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| In Queens where my drugs be, I wear Guess jeans and rugbies
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| Yo, my people from Medina, they will see ya when you re-up
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| Bring your heater, all your cream go between us
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| Real shit, my Desert Eagle got an ill grip
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| I chill with niggas that hit Dominican spots and steal bricks
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| My red beam made a dread scream and sprayed a fed team
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| Corleone be turnin' niggas to fiends
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| Yukons and ninja black Lexus
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| 'Mega the pretty boy with mafia connections
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| It’s The Firm, nigga, set it
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| Yo, my mind is seein' through your design like Blind Fury
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| I shine jewelry, sippin' on crushed grapes, we lust papes
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| And push cakes inside the casket at Just wake
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| It’s sickenin', he just finished biddin' upstate
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| And now the projects is talkin' that somebody-gotta-die shit
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| It’s logic, as long as it’s nobody that’s in my clique
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| My man Smoke know how to expand coke in Mr. Coffee
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| Feds cost me two mill' to get the system off me
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| Life’s a bitch, but God forbid the bitch divorce me
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| I’ll be flooded with ice, so Hell fire can’t scorch me
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| Cuban cigars, meetin' Foxy at Demars, movin' cars
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| Your top papi Señor Escobar
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| In the black Camaro, Firm deep
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| All my niggas hail the blackest sparrow
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| Wallabee’s be the apparel
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| Through the darkest tunnel
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| I got visions of multi millions in the biggest bundle
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| In the Lex pushed by my nigga Jungle
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| E Money bags got Moët Chandon
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| Bundle of sixty-two
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| They ain’t got a clue what we about to do
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| My whole team, we shittin' hard like Czar
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| Sosa, Foxy Brown, Cormega and Escobar
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| I keep a fat marquess piece, laced in all the illest snake skin
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| Armani sweaters, Carolina Herrera
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| Be The Firm, baby, from BK to the Bridge, my nigga Wiz
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| Operation Firm Biz, so what the deal is?
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| I keep a phat jew-el, sippin' Cristy
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| Sittin' on top of fifty grand in the Nautica Van
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| We stay incogni' like all them thug niggas in Marcy
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| The gods, they praise Allah with visions of Gandhi
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| Bet it on my whole crew is Don Juan
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| On Cayman Island with a case of Cristal
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| And Baba Shallah spoke
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| Nigga with them Cubans that snort coke
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| Raw though, an ounce mixed with leak, that’s pure though
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| Flippin' the bigger picture
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| The bigger nigga with the cheddar was mad dripper
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| He had a fuckin' villa in Manilla
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| We got to flee to Panama, but wait, it’s half-and-half
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| Ki’s is one and two-fifth, so how we flip?
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| 32 grams raw, chop it in half, get 16
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| Double it times three, we got 48
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| Which mean a whole lot of cream
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| Divide the profit by four
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| Subtract it by eight, we back to 16
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| Now add the other two that 'Mega bringin' through
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| So let’s see, if we flip this other ki
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| Then that’s more for me, mad coke and mad leak
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| Plus a five hundred cut in half is two-fifty
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| Now triple that times three
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| We got three quarters of another ki
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| The Firm, baby, Vol. |
| 1 |