| I’d be a stupid motha fucka if I’m stuck in his pot
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| I ain’t waitin to see what nigga out here love me or not
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| I say I hate em from a distance and they scopin' my neck
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| But these diamonds even cost me M-R and cars on my deck
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| And I can already vision people sayin I’m wrong
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| But I rather his momma than my momma singin that song
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| Besides chickens gon' be chickens and ducks gonna be ducks
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| And I’m all around guerrilla that love playin them cuts
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| Im’a attached to the streets, those niggas in the pens
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| Started problems wit ol' tymers that did ten
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| And this bitch curly head still been in the case
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| But he ain’t man enough to leave a real one in the face
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| And to you 4−6 and 8 bitches wit t.v. |
| Pranks
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| You jeopardize my living quarters, wanna see me sank
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| But I got news for everyone of y’all
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| I know who yah is, plus I won’t be satisfied until I go in yah crib
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| Whatcha getting scared for? |
| Don’t get spooked
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| You was a bad mother fucker at first stunt too
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| Lookin fed up so me and Wheezy we comin through
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| And who ever sides yappin we gon' punish em too
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| Armed and Dangerous, Rich and Famous, Young and Restless
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| Guns and Stretcha’s, Crystal and dubs for breakfast
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| I just got one suggestion, ask yah Testem, this cuz get hectic
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| Send one through your son’s intestines
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| Lock, snock lung through testin’s
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| If the portrait, bodies piled up on porches, it won’t be gorgeous
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| Ride with the torch, scorchin, ready to blaze
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| Step in me ways, kidnap your car for 70 days
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| And let it be said Holly Grove’s the home of a soldier
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| And if a nigga breathe wrong than it’s over
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| I never love ya, my metal slug ya
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| If you kept on fuckin wit the squad
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| Put the coward’s stomach by his thighs, nothin survives
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| And as far as the coke, 20 bricks month and supply
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| And as far as the dope, plenty chips come and say «Hi»
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| Drop 3−2 roll, all black, buttons and shyer
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| I don’t need you hoe
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| Jack my dick, cum in yah eyes
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| What?
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| Nigga C’mon
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| You gotta love us
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| Bumpin inside of humma’s
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| Ride as thugga’s, we who be
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| Think that them coward’s busta’s
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| Why we hustlin in they sleep
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| We be in that powder smuggle by the doubles every week
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| And if one of them cowards run up try to knock him off his feet
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| The brotha is Wheezy, love it or leave me
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| Gats hug it and squeeze it
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| Crack, bundle it easy
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| Run it wit these n' murderers, crooks and x-cons
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| Yah test mine I give it to yah chest 6 times
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| I believe in me and my family cuz niggas is broads
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| That leave you slanted, thugged out wit a conspiracy charge
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| All pussy ain’t the pussy like money and drugs
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| I’m dickin bitches that trial and I’m the jury and judge
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| I make sure I separate it, though I hate when I love
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| Its just me, Cash Money Millionaires that wackin the plug
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| Wud-up Lil Wheezy, im laid back up in the cut if yah need me
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| Its love believe me |