| I post on that block, I was just a young bull
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| I was the smallest nigga with the biggest tool
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| I got niggas dry snitching, dropping interviews
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| I’m a street nigga, I don’t do subliminals
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| Grew up in the projects, bitch I hang with criminals
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| They get in yo grill, like a dentist with a bunch of tools
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| They be big bad wolves, they’ll blow ya house down!
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| Little Red Riding Hood, came to rob the whole town!
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| Margielas on my feet, selling white girl, Cinderella!
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| Hit the club, make it rain, don’t forget ya umbrella!
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| Cooking in that trap, got the stove on high
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| Niggas sneak dissing me, I expose those guys
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| You’d think I was the bakerman, how I serve those pies
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| That’s yo ass! |
| Boi, ya trash, I dispose those guys
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| Pinocchio, ya nose get broke if you believe those lies
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| He don’t want his bitch back, my whole gang done smashed
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| We just fuck hoes and dump em' like a cigar ash
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| I’m selling Mary Jane, got a bus load of that gas
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| You mug in the club, stomp a mudhole in yo ass!
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| I’m a shooting star, fuck a porn star, still drive a foreign car |
| Told the dealer lose the roof, so my bitch can see the stars
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| I get these hoes wet! |
| Call me wishin well
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| Wish ya well! |
| Niggas dissing on me, telling fairytales
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| Glowing like a Christmas tree, hoes singing Jingle Bells
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| I knock the meat out yo taco, bitch I got plenty shells
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| I went to jail, I made bail, then back home to that scale!
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| You dissing for some fame, you get hog-tied up!
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| Since we young street niggas, they gon' criticize us!
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| Posted on that block! |
| I was selling crack rocks!
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| Glock cocked, leave him in the desert by the pit stop
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| Gold rollie on my wrist, it’s a foreign watch
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| Take a nigga bitch, even if he was a cockblock
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| Trapping out the bando, why? |
| Cause the block hot
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| Pull up in that European, yea it cost a whole lot
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| My new bitch European, teach her how to work a pot
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| Work up straight drop, Flintstone, make a bed rock
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| Rap game ain’t shit to me, I got it in a head lock
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| These fucks niggas envy cause I made to the damn top
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| I’m on my Eazy-E shit, 64, droptop
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| I’m on some Mr. T shit, Cuban links, tank top |
| I’m not the one to beef with, we pulling up, sending shots
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| Built with that street shit, I fell in love with toting chops
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| With the extended clip, 30 shots, yup we call em' mops
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| Slidin on the opps, we do high speeds on the cops, BITCH! |