| Yo capri, yo this is diamond, um.
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| Check it out um. |
| i moved the session to next wednesday
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| At 12 noon, plug me in at d&d, youll be outta there by one oclock
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| Aiight? |
| call me back and umm. |
| give me confirmation.
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| Im ageless, pageless, only want me for that thing
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| Hang up the phone, wants to let it ring
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| Wit my gold chain, nothing as the hangin rope
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| Who wanna stay in court plus knowin the fact that Im smokey
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| Bust you in the back and play the low key
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| Trustin in the fact that where I go, knowbody knows me Maybe then Ill go to where the weather is more suited to my taste
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| And you got, uprooted in the first place
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| I got the chelle fire, cuz I get deeper than mya
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| Stay on shorties domes like them beauty parlor dryers
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| Want some verbal spit from the semi-auto lip
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| Your whole body get hit, then you start dancin and *shit*
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| And Im the, overweight afro-diesiaic
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| I only lick two and pass if your trees be black
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| I leave the, promoters screamin «wont you please be back? |
| «Detonating, till bell-bottom lees come back
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| Chorus
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| So brand nus, you can make it hot this year
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| And diamond d, you can make it hot this year
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| So brand nus, you can make it hot this year
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| And diamond d, youre rollin wit the kid capri
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| Brand nus you can make it hot this year
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| And diamond d, we all can make it hot this year
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| Brand nus, you can make it hot this year
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| And diamond d, youre rollin wit the kid capri
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| Aight, now heres to yall all and my new bronx address
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| Im out wit the old *shit*, got a brand new mattress
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| Dont want no girl wit no flat chest
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| How bout the one wit the? |
| pack less?
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| I tickle you laugh, but I just got the math
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| Over on park ave, off the concourse on?
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| She took two and, she could do it My whole crew got angers wit them
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| Similar to travellin, salesman hittin things from women
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| Or whatever
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| Allah uhakbar, lord jamar spit in devils face like roberto alomar
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| Choke a phillie l like latrell sprewell
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| Straight from the rochelle where the g-o-ds dwell
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| I hope you didnt think that we fell
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| We drink from the well, and it never runs dry
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| So we never gon die
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| We multiply wit mathematics, womens call us charismatic
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| Smoke the aro-matic, too much, guess its a habit
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| Here me dog, cuz a *nigga* aint the run of the mill
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| Blow up your body at will, like a chick on the pill
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| I make it hot to death, swing it from right to left
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| Cuz I talk so much *shit* I can taste it on my breath
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| I got the head knock, keep rhyme flows under padlock
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| Like comstock, wit more shoes than a foot locker
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| And it dont stop, diamond d and brand nu Baggin more chickens than that *nigga* frank purdue
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| No more domestication, on some over-seas *shit*
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| Beat a *nigga ass* till he says «please quit»
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| While you home alone marinatin on cheese sticks
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| Im in the back of the burban wit some chinese chicks
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| Lookin at a map, one chick on my lap
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| Tellin me how she was born in the year of the rap
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| But by the time we reach the house, theres no waitin in fact
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| All you see is ankles (yeah, what) from the front to the back
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| Big shouts to my peoples all over uptown
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| Big shouts to my peoples all over the world
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| Brand nubian, big shouts to diamond d Big shouts to diggin in the crates
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| Its the kid capri, and we puttin it down like that
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| Straight hip-hop, straight to your mouth, word up Im outta here |