| Y’all niggas ain’t no killas
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| Y’all niggas some hoes
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| So check you haters one by one
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| Deep is how we fuckin' come
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| Rat-tat-tat-tat
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| B-izz-ag full of teflons
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| Peepin' through my mask
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| I’m leavin' my eyebrows down
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| It ain’t no love in my facial expressions
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| Murder frowns when it touch
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| The nigga that’s feelin' that pain
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| We takin' that gravy
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| Big Kill creepin' with the Mac-90s
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| Shoot fourty double clip eighty
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| You better be cautious
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| Or play yo cards right
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| Cause when I be cappin'
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| I be bustin' with that HK four to the seven
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| Too many hoes like to floss
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| Too many niggas like to cross
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| Tryna come up with no dues
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| But you swear you takin' the loss
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| I don’t fuck with ya kind
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| I’m claimin' the O to the G
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| And if you niggas looking for me
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| I’m strapped for poppin' up on yo damn street
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| Now don’t start duckin'
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| When my heat release this bullet destruction
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| Lyin' and cryin' won’t help you bitch
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| Skinny Pimp me still bustin'
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| Look at you now
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| You piece of shit dead where you can’t swim
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| «Fuck you!» |
| is my last words
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| Where killaz claimin' they end
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| Y’all niggas ain’t no killas
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| Y’all niggas some hoes
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| What you gotta s-izz-ay?
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| Come and pl-izz-ay with the gangsta nigga
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| Bet yo bottom dollar
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| Make you holler for this memphis nigga
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| Left to right, long down tight
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| Height from some hustable
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| Tooty-fruity-rooty got my body so damn comfortable
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| Fallin' through the club, watch me jook
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| Hit the fuckin' door
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| All I feel is anna plus them thugs
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| Game to whoop a hoe
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| Strapped like (?) Jesse James
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| Take it to the western days
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| Niggas better let they fuckin' (?)
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| For they get a rape
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| Claim to be a killer trick
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| Say you first to shoot some shit
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| Skinny go kill that anna for
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| Tony Montana, mane let’s go kill a bitch
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| Jumpin' through the lexus
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| See what’s next as flex this fuckin' trick
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| Slam down suburban to the curb and
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| All I see is shit
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| Slammin' OZ with Little G
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| Pimpin' ass (?)
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| Mess you up like (?) and kick circle
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| Gangsta shoot for straight
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| Never claim the killa role
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| But I pack that .380
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| Nervous for my life, I kill you twice
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| You ain’t no killa hoe, nigga!
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| Y’all niggas ain’t no killas
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| Y’all niggas some hoes
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| Elimination that makes me clips
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| Beat the ultimate the twitchy gaze
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| Split kick breakin' 'em down
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| Microscopic of Triple Six
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| Horror side time, terrify
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| Bunches are rotten up underground
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| To keep the soil fertilized
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| Go to sleep, close your eyes, die, might
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| Bout to cry, Infamous is not too kind
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| So therefore I won’t let you slide during the bloody rite
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| Oh my, me sharpened up my knives
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| Chop you into bits, drop you into them pits
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| To be devoured by beast in the last of the mystic bitch
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| And you’ll feel the pain that no one can imagine
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| Chained to be tamed by the flames of the dragon
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| I am Lord Infamous, death is my method
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| The evil sea universally ratchet
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| Those of mortal flesh have been possessed
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| With all my corpse
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| With my name carved deep in they chest
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| Nevertheless eternally rest, bloody mess
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| The devil nigga know it make you quiver
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| You failed to squeeze the trigger
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| I think you ain’t no killa nigga
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| Y’all niggas ain’t no killas
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| Y’all niggas some hoes
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| This is for you backstabbin bitches that be callin' me straight
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| You got a bank and a nigga like me ain’t ate shit all day
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| But you’s a jealous-hearted nigga that wanna see a playa fall
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| Now have you ever robbed, shot and killed somebody?
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| Nigga, hell no!
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| You need to think, have you ever said some about a:
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| Murderer, pimp, playa that’s causin' so much drama
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| When I blast, callin' yoself a killa
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| Fake cap peeler, hide that bitch
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| Jab turkey Skinny Pimp smokin' and strokin' that
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| What about a campfire trick
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| Murderer bumpin' these bitches down
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| Cherry stabbin', we creep on clowns
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| Layin' they ass down
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| Found drowned by a lake in Funky Town
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| Never leave yo niggas back
|
| A ditch that Memphis bitch we thick
|
| Gimisum Family causin' the tragedy
|
| Dozens of playas that (?) shit
|
| It ain’t no squashin' in my heart
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| Motherfucker show some courage
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| Or get yo ass shot up like busta
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| With a violent (?) from my nina roster ruger
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| Counterfeitin' high power cowards
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| Yall ain’t no killa |