| Rest in peace, Big Mello, we gon' miss you, nigga
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| Man, I done lost so many homies, I need tissue nigga
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| Taking million dolla pictures, me and all of my niggaz
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| In three years, I plan to have stacks like Jigga
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| Aw naw, hell, naw, man, y’all done up and done it
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| We chiefing like everyday, smoking bluebonic, chronic
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| I did it, I done it, this rap beef, you know who won it
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| I’m five million worldwide, I got mo' money
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| Europe paid me eighty G’s for a hour show
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| And any nigga would be a damn fool, not to go
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| You rap about Amsterdam, nigga, I really been
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| And over there, you could get ten blunts for ten
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| I smoke over and over again, God, forgive me
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| 'Cause I’m a young thug with tattoos in my skin
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| Four hundred thousand dolla Benz with my name on my rims
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| And when I pull up, hoes be like, I know that’s him
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| Sometime I flip in a cream Caddy, sometimes I flip in a Fleet wood
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| You know the one with the platinum skin
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| And the chrome spinning shoes, that fill the feet good
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| Might slide in my Dodge Intrepid
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| Or the limousine tint over 83's and fresh meat
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| Guaranteed to squeeze when enemies test me
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| I’ma empty the clip and reload again
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| Ain’t got no gal, ain’t got no friends
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| Only thing I give a damn about is my ends
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| I wish was alive
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| So I could watch him make another Dub again
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| I’m mad at the world, fuck love again
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| 'Cause my so called partnas think I’m cappin'
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| Bitch, I’ve earned the right to live the good life
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| Y’all know how long I’ve been rappin'
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| We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
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| That’s the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
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| I’m the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
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| And all we do is get money
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| (Where I’m from)
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| We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
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| That’s the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
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| I’m the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
|
| And all we do is get money
|
| (Where I’m from)
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| You know, I’m thinking of a master plan
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| I got chrome fans on my promotional van
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| I’m the new Liberraci, look at how this shit got me
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| I fuck with D-Block and the Dipset posse
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| My spinners don’t stop, y’all rappers don’t shop
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| 'Cause your jeweler told me, you be wearing fake rocks
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| And if I catch you in my hood, homie, you can’t leave
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| 'Cause I do niggaz like Fabolous, man, they can’t breathe
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| I got a trick up my sleeve, don’t ever pick up my weed
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| And I don’t tell my hoes bye, I fuck 'em, get up and leave
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| And when I pass by the laws, I gotta switch up my speed
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| 'Cause my spider on the highway, doin' 153
|
| We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
|
| That’s the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
|
| I’m the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
|
| And all we do is get money
|
| (Where I’m from)
|
| We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
|
| That’s the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
|
| I’m the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
|
| And all we do is get money
|
| (Where I’m from)
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| Every morning I wake up and give my praises to God
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| Just for letting me see another sunrise
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| 'Cause sometime, making it through the night is hard
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| Livin' in a place where cheering kills, cheering and police be the civilian
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| Lord, I’ve been callin' you so long, I wonder if you even hear me
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| Even though I can call a whole heap a burdens
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| I know there’s a bunch of blessings as well
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| I remember when I had to sleep on benches
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| Straight rob motherfuckers and leap over fences
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| In a single bound, I wish my mama could see me now
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| Ain’t no detectives tryin' to see me now
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| With no rival gangs trying to beat me down
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| It’s MTV and BET now and ain’t no mo' regular weed
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| Ain’t nothing but the best herb
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| With a grandaddy size cup of codeine
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| Straight eight over ice, nigga, yes, sir
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| I’m leaning like I need a V8, representin' for the 3rd Coast
|
| Look, respect the South and we gon' see straight, see straight
|
| We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
|
| That’s the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
|
| I’m the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
|
| And all we do is get money
|
| (Where I’m from)
|
| We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
|
| That’s the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
|
| I’m the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
|
| And all we do is get money
|
| (Where I’m from) |