| 30 mag the same color as Bernie Mac
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| For 30 clams I let 'em squeeze then burn your bag
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| I pull it back then let it scream it go RRAAAT
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| Then search your bag, you take a breath and then collapse
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| And it’s a wrap, put your face in the dirt
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| The whole town’ll walk around with your face on a shirt
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| Pussy, and ain’t shit pos but death 'cause these youngins ride for the ride and
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| niggas die for respect
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| Somebody sign me a check 'cause I’m way too nice
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| I don’t write it I just recite it, you and I connect
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| I done won and lost fights, hustled all night
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| Posted on the corner, serving smokers hard white
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| Niggas alright, but they ain’t real enough
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| My niggas is all nice, that’s why niggas feelin' us
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| Lord, please have mercy on me
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| Niggas wanna see me laying in that grave, undertaker throwing dirt up on me
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| Just like the rap, shit ain’t working for me
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| But now my name pop, hatin' ass niggas putting curses on me
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| Praying I die, I pray to the sky
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| On my knees, thing on my side, while I pray to my God
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| Whole squad on tape bro
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| Spending all they days cold
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| In that jail cell stressin' why I’m on the same road
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| Everyday the same clothes, that’s why I make the product flip
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| But I don’t really trust a nigga, I done did a lot of shit
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| But now I’m sick and tired of it
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| Livin' like I’m livin' on this dough route
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| I’d rather go out, just like my father did
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| So I tell niggas suck my dick
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| 'cause you do me the same way that Al Pote did Mitch
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| So size ya Tony, most niggas is phonies
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| So keep your eyes wide and watch who you call yo homies |