| Man what you need man?
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| Yo’bitch ass always come around here wit this whole
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| three dollar two dollar five dollar hit shit
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| Nigga come around here with a twenty-sack of somethin nigga
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| My bills gotta get paid motherfucker
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| I’m outta here -- catch me next week beotch!
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| Hop in my Chevy get to wheelin down the block
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| Makin sales, whether slangin weed or rocks
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| Clockin major strapped up, me and my niggaz in the house
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| Might as well BACK UP, bustin on niggaz if they act up On a mission with my gang, around here we run thangs
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| Get paid, every night, where we hang
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| cause it’s a street thang, cops and automatic weapon
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| keep a nigga intact, for these niggaz half-steppin
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| Daz Dillinger, got sewed up for real
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| Dealers servin these niggaz for a quarter a mill'
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| Ninety-eight my motto to kill, that’s how it is Fuck my family, fuck my friends, when my dope come in You feel like fuck trust, a nigga lose his life
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| tryin to trust on motherfuckers like us.
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| Stackin, stolen stack stackin it ain’t nuttin but murders
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| kidnappings jackings and vault cracking
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| crackin up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts
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| The dark parts of the motherfuckin park
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| The tarantula’s loose and I’m heated now
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| with somethin in my right palm to keep y’all seated down
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| Repeated, headhuntin, huntin for heads
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| Shot in the chest neck arm and legs
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| Ain’t no fakin we all out to get paid
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| Wettin niggaz what we do nowadays (nigga)
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| Around here, you can’t trust nobody
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| Anybody’s somebody tryin to jack somebody (somebody)
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| Whether it’s weed or your life or narcotics
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| Anyway you get, you can’t trust nobody
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| We jack a nigga for a half a thang, we back up in this
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| with a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million
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| Now we set, we relaxed chillin, livin the boss life
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| Every day every night me and the Columbians take flight
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| Eight hundred ki’s to fly across seas
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| When I flip it I make about twelve million G’s
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| I’m a two thousand Ricky Ross, transportin the sauce
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| And it pay to be the boss cause when yo’ass get crossed
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| every nigga on the street gets paid
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| A couple pieces spread, bear arms nigga, warfare nigga
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| Shut down the alarms nigga
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| Time to hit off, get off then break off
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| If he don’t kick in the bread then take off
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| Columbian ties, Columbian mob members in Columbian neckties
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| Columbians disfigured
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| Daz MIDI machine Dillinger
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| Two shotty Young Gotti, bout to put it on somebody
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| And my mindstate today is fuck everybody
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| Around here, you can’t trust nobody
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| Anybody’s somebody tryin to jack somebody (somebody)
|
| Whether it’s weed or your life or narcotics
|
| Anyway you get, you can’t trust nobody
|
| Around here, you can’t trust nobody
|
| Anybody’s somebody tryin to jack somebody (somebody)
|
| Whether it’s weed or your life or narcotics
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| Anyway you get, you can’t trust nobody
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| . |
| shit, who the fuck at the door?
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| Aww man the police fool c’mon get out of here man c’mon!
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| Flush the shit! |
| Flush the coke!!! |