| Like this here, reminds me of Gilligan’s Island
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| And that reminds of Harlem, where my niggaz is whylin
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| The only borough that was built on an island, woah
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| You fucks probably ain’t know, if they cut off the bridges
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| We’d be stuck, forced to live on the Island
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| But we gangstas, riders, 9/11 survivors
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| Niggaz still want beef than holla
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| You think you bout it, get your piece and holla
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| Squeze the piece when I think it’s problems, do you follow?
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| A young Muhammad Atta, no plane lessons, cocaine lessons, just a plot of towers
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| Before they crashed and divided the towers
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| I’m hurtin’working hard to reprovide the towers, like
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| Bring 'em back up, lift 'em back up Niggaz back up, or lift us back up Okay, okay, okay
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| Okay, okay, okay
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| Okay, okay, okay
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| Y’all can’t fuck with me, okay
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| Now let me hear you say, OKAY
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| It’s Santana the great again, tie him up, bandana his face again
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| I tried to tell 'em it’s no escaping the basics
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| And no escaping the hatred and no escaping the matrix man
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| Only Neo is me, no Cleo can see my future, if she did I’d shoot her
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| They tried to say the mission was impossible
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| I came through, crew did it, got it poppin’too
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| Two bitches on my side both prostitutes
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| Gray smoke, mobster’s suit, yeah they get it poppin’too
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| I get my ace holes chopped in two, dimes, quarters, rocks in two
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| The fiends cop it too
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| Yeah, look at 'em rockin’two, rockin’boat, Rock n’Jock
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| Stop and plot, hot a BLDAT
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| Fucka, this nigga gotta stop, out of sight, out of mind
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| He gotta go, he out of line
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| Okay, okay, okay
|
| Okay, Okay, Okay
|
| Okay, Okay, Okay
|
| Y’all can’t fuck with me, OKAY |