| Continuously, yeah
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| Who’s that crazy nigga
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| Drinkin crazy pussy out of crazy straw
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| Kicking crazy hardcore, crazy metaphors
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| When I rap competitions perform disappearing acts
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| Niggas ask why the Squad be on it like that
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| Cause we stay with the lethal dosage
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| Click on the Mic MC’s run like roaches
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| Truthfully I think them niggas is gay
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| Always havin a party with no DJ
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| I had to hold my head in disbelief
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| Them short winded niggas tried to smoke the chief
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| Of the frontal leaf Keith
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| Knowing damn well they can’t win
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| My style is rougher than army gear and old timb
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| The east coast say ill
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| The west coast say ill
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| My squad is def they don’t give a fuck
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| They say kill
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| Cause we can all sing together
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| But we can’t talk together
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| That’s why I pack the black gat up under the leather
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| And keep it hot
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| It’s 96 degrees in the shade
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| 1000 degrees
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| I got nuts like Almond Joy, like Mounds you don’t
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| I say and do a lot of things some fake rappers won’t
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| Now I’m the show shocker plus the show stopper
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| Down with makin G’s and all the block clockers
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| Down with L.O.D., the motherf-ing cop droppers
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| Down with Def Squad flying through your hood in choppers
|
| Yeah we done been in more shit in the past year
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| Than the bloods and crips care to hear
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| Ear to ear, Glock to hand, Mic to mouth, resuscitation
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| Psychosomatic creation
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| Killing off the nation of perpetration
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| Player hating, bringin confrontation
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| I’ll shoot your hips up and make you bogle like Jamaicans
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| I’m doing my thing, if you feel me do your thing
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| Y’all niggas know my style
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| I smoke weed on trains and planes
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| Murderous material submerging from my brain
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| Chumpin top dollar niggas into small change
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| And make it hot
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| I’m the unfuckwitable incredible lyrical individual
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| Boy your not suitable
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| I work wonders over the beats
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| It’s no wonder phony MC’s get out numbered
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| Timberlands get tumbled
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| Relax your head
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| Accomodations and compliments of the infrared
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| Theoretically, hypothetically, practically
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| Actually ain’t nobody fucking with me
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| I’ll sell your stupid ass the Brooklyn Bridge
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| If you think an MC in your camp can fuck with the kid
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| I want the sun not to shine for six months, to see who fronts
|
| While the Squad light up the sky with blunts
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| If you catch a nigga dreaming
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| Thinking he can fuck with my enterprise
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| Wake him up, smack em, make him apologize
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| Cause we be on their lemonade type shit
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| I ain’t no faggot but you derelicts can suck my dick
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| I make it hot |