| Southside, hot
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| Westside, hot
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| Off in the Dirty Dirty, you know we do it with these
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| Poetic and Don Ke, known for getting that cheese
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| I’m a calculator, calculate my feddy
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| It be sixteen a bird, if your chips is ready
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| Where your cash at nigga, cause I stay in the mix
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| Nextdoor to Mexico, I get it thirteen six
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| C.D.'s and L.P.'s, keep it legally true
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| I’m a underground king, rest in peace to Screw
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| You know my click on the creep, with no time to sleep
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| You can hit me all night, got them thangs for cheap
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| Where them real hustlas at, where them real ballas at
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| Get your grind on playa, for real and live fat
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| We legendary thugs, known for shooting slugs
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| Sitting in front of clubs, on brand new Dubs
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| The Escaladea, is looking good no doubt
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| And one thang fa sho, mayn the birds fly South
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| From the East to the West fa sho, that’s how we does it
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| Southside for life, won’t you tell me how you love it
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| You get it how you live, or you close your mouth
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| And for the hustlas round the world, mayn the birds fly South
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| From the East to the West fa sho, that’s how we does it
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| Southside for life, won’t you tell me how you love it
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| You get it how you live, or you close your mouth
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| And there’s one thang fa sho, mayn the birds fly South
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| I’m bout to touch down, headed to Oak-Town
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| A fat sack of smoke, I’m ready to straight clown
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| Leave the airport, headed straight to the spot
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| And my nigga Mr. Changra, he be punching the clock
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| I’m a certified G, giving all I got
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| They go South for the winter, cause the tracks is hot
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| I be laying low, in the studio writing
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| Remember Lil' Ke, like they did the Titans
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| It’s a earthquake, from California to Texas
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| 22's on that thang, don’t you touch that Lexus
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| Gotta get it baby, cause you know I’m a savage
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| And that Fed-Ex bout to drop off, a beautiful package
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| We some independent masters, causing a disaster
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| Get ghost on the FED’s, like my name was Casper
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| Bastard fa sho, when I’m moving in route
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| And there’s one thang fa sho, mayn the birds fly South
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| Commission, Avarice, don’t really get us pissed
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| Sell a quick hundred thousand, is first on the list
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| Lay it down, cause we just some young Hoggs
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| This for real dogs, we doing this for y’all
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| I pop up the trunk, let em hear the funk
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| Setting up the shop, got the neighborhood crunk
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| We slab riding, and everything is thick
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| From the quarters to the halves, to the whole damn brick
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| Let’s get this money Pete, cause it don’t matter to me
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| You can smoke a gang of hours, have a bag or tree
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| We drop hit after hit, lick after lick
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| All the real gangstas, gonna feel this shit
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| They fly South |