| Men greet men
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| All well
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| Stand, All ten
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| I’m all the way in there
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| Ya heard me?
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| I don’t wanna talk
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| Get ‘Em Gates
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| Divorced all my wives, cancelled all my soul ties
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| Countertops in the Southside, lettin' the coke dry (Coke dry)
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| I don’t get upset, I ain’t never duck and wreck (Duck and wreck)
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| I’m a muslim, yeah
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| Let me know when you wanna bump your head
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| Wanna post up on me, for some bread
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| Tell 'em I ain’t scared (Let's go)
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| Jumped the Hellcat with no tint
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| Workin' my BlackBerry
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| T-Shirt white, bitch bright, feel like I’m Jeff Perry
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| Swaggin' from the back, with hard pipe and she said «Yes, Kevin»
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| What I told you 'bout that get it right and she said «Yes, daddy»
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| Rumors in the city, I ain’t worried 'bout none of them
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| Mix the H with the fen, you could go fetch you a Benz
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| Bulletproof Cutlass, Supreme (Ooh)
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| Necklace enforced it with, bling
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| Truck haul the interstate, make the Honda touch down with them Bs
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| Rollie on glisten, ka-ting
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| Little, this shit was a, dream
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| Bread Winner ego go, inc
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| Jump in the whip and go, screech
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| Come up from nothing, gold teeth in the gutta, this street
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| Cut up with cutters and cleats, thuggin', I’m somethin' unique
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| My children lovin', my women infatuated pullin' the paper from outta that hoe
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| Everything platinum, ain’t regular status
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| He tuckin' that pack and I’m throwin' em loads
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| These women mean nothin, they stealin' my energy from me, was spinnin' me outta
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| control
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| Fuckin' with trash, I learned my lesson (Ooh)
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| Two hunnid K for a new perspective (I did)
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| Got my attention, that ain’t bad (Come on)
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| Get out of line and I’m gettin' you smashed
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| Tell me it’s up and I’m on your ass (I'm on your ass)
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| I’m in the tank, I’m doin' the dash
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| Keep your security 'round you
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| Knowin' you pussy and I am not scared of nothing (I ain’t scared of nothing)
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| I’ma control the threats, I show the press
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| And turn on the pressure ugly
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| I made a lot of mistakes in life but I’m up in rank, I’m growin' from that
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| I gave a lot of you niggas some stripes, but I ain’t aight, ain’t going for that
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| I’m raisin' my son for to be a lil man and he 'bout to live in reality
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| We open with prayer and stick to the plan and this is the only reality
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| Your moral compass is all you got
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| Life in general, cold sport
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| The higher ups gon' play polite
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| The system still do what they want
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| Cool to kick it, but always remember that you still a nigga when you go to court
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| Been in that blender with plenty of course
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| Blemish my image, ain’t gettin' no awards
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| Steady tryna be a better man, still I handle business like a gangsta (Gangsta)
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| I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta), I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta)
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| Steady tryna be a better man, still I handle business like a gangsta (Gangsta)
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| I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta), I’ma always be gangsta (Gangsta)
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| Respect the laws of the jungle, nigga layin' law down in the slums
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| I’m the same nigga from the haunted house, with Jermaine Hurd dealing drugs
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| I’m the same nigga had Marlo Mike, underneath the wing off the bus
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| I just wanna see you come up, quarter ki of green tryna let 'em thug
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| I’m the same nigga flood the wild side, with the loratabs in the mud (I did)
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| In the bottom, standin' outside, Gates got the cocaine and the bud
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| Rest in peace, Lil' Phat, drop top jag come in all black
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| Him and Bell, pull on me and Julio, on Louisa Street for the pack
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| Let me take a nigga back
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| 'Fore I graduated with them racks
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| The whole Southside eatin', Willy and Trae both jumpin' out Camaros
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| That’s when Big London had the lac
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| That’s when Big Head had the lac
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| Boo and L playin' in the lac
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| We on Arizona in the lab
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| Big Yak and Ivy in the CTSs, wit the spinners on em, that’s a fact
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| I was uptown at the Easter Bash
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| White Stan Smith’s with the tag
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| With the long dreads, Polo collar
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| With Jabo shorts, lettin' em sag
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| With the red boxers, wit the white horses, all four pockets full of bands
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| Ayy with all due respect (Come on man)
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| Ayy, that’s me you tryna be, you heard?
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| (Ayy, haha, for real)
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| I don’t chill like that, like that
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| Mane come on man, my lil soldiers on it mane, I ain’t worried 'bout nothin'
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| (Nothin')
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| It’s really nothin' (Man you playin') |