| I saw these fools tryin to get around, tryin to let me down
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| And all dat, ha but I got an easier way to let dem drown
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| Wit these Guns of Navarrone, I shall shoot dem like Al Capone
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| Take dem to the zones of bones, like dat WELL
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| Yo, dunn, they tried to knock me down, bury me under
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| Big pipes soundin' like thunder
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| Skated by the skin of my teeth
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| I had to put a man in his place last week
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| Now, why you wanna come at me?
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| I’m the wrong nigga to approach like that, homes
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| Wrong nigga for threats, lone nigga wit long chrome
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| And we can dance till one of us drop
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| You score points fallin' wit good formation
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| I’m the wrong nigga for patience, wrong one at dunn
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| The very last nigga you should ever blast your gun
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| To the floor, actin like you goin' to war
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| Now, you fucked up, here come a real rocket launcher
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| Flame thrower, rule wit a iron rod
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| That be the Ruger, y’all niggas keep tryin' hard
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| But who the loser when you can’t walk your hood at night
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| And you can’t come outside without fear?
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| Am I in your thoughts often? |
| While you be walkin?
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| Foot soldier catch you at the store’s corner
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| Keep me on your mind and don’t slumber
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| Man, the minute you slip wit those, that’s your ass
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| M-O-B-B dunn, let’s get it on, dunn
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| Wit Bounty Killer, yo, it’s like this, dunn
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| Aiyyo, cock that shit, pop that shit
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| Squeeze off, let 'em know how real this is
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| M-O-B-B, D-double-E-P wit Bounty Killer
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| No other gun runners keep a round like this
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| From Q-U-double-E-N-S
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| My bomb borough, till the day of my death
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| Whether in shit I been in
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| Runnin' down the block, sprayin shots wit the Lindon, listen
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| We all been through ac-tion, you know the last me blastin'
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| The last man standin', pack shit longer than bare wake
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| Neither the jake nor the snakes gon' stop it
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| You know the Mobb lettin' off rockets
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| Gun burners spit like lungies, dummies
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| Still nuttin' pop but the shells
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| These ain’t words from hell, these are slugs, somethin' you feel
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| A gun runner nigga for real, nigga
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| Yo, hear my gat blow, make you spit out crack the actual
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| That brand new six that you couldn’t seem to whip
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| Empty the clip, make sure no friendly get hit
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| While you layin' bloodied up in the six
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| Flee the front-line, dismantle gat and bounce
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| Then watch the twelve o’clock news and hear 'em shout you out
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| Plug leak, slip rug right from under your feet
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| You runnin the streets, you don’t want no problems wit us
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| Everyday is like 4th of July to us
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| Henny in my cup beside the gat you’ll find in my clutch
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| Interfere wit the plan and you will get touched
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| Let the liquor talk for you and you will get touched
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| Full fledge like Ra, let em Know The Ledge
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| While you slippin' off edge, your shorty’s givin' me head
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| Cockin' 'em legs like guns when I’m cockin' to spray
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| Poppin' your way, sendin' shit that’s hot your way |