| Welcome.
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| Little boys and girls. |
| You thought niggaz was gonna come weak? |
| Nigga
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| this the Mobb fool. |
| Uh.
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| I got some Killaz On The Payroll
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| an they know
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| when it’s time to handle business nigga lay low.
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| Verse 1 *(Phats Bossalini)*
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| I fight to struggle
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| hopin god don’t stop my hustle
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| my fam fight back like wild dogs wit out a muzzle
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| the shots was multiple
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| I remember blood puddles
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| landed in sand wit niggaz fallin in doubles
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| baby couples
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| I mean the strong kill the weak
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| million dolla puzzles
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| I done placed the last piece
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| success is sweet
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| I put it all back together
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| mass melted chambers
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| strictly guarded by Barretas
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| uh cash means
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| fo the jewels they get they ass beat
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| sweat in my sleep
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| think they found a way to blast me grossly
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| mutha fuckaz tried to choke me sliced they throat
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| look in my eyes now slowly
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| your oldie
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| that’s for takin it P now what’s left to play soley
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| that’s for fuckin wit me listen
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| in the streets it’s a respect thang
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| can’t tell the tune
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| left ya non-Taxin
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| mostly caine brought up got sold on my block
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| most the nights I slept
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| got awoke by shots
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| the inner city
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| I could care less about your pitty
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| I’m Phats Bossin ready to die come and get me.
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| Verse 2 *(Poppa L.Q.)*
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| Well you can label me an outlaw when Madd Maxx turn to set it off
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| grab the 9 millimeter by the pistol grip an let it off
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| like Dustin Hoff
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| killin MC’s off wit a vengance
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| blow the microphone up an leave it smokin when I’m finished
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| per pound spinach
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| my niggaz been in it an done, done it so when you come to smoke wit our records
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| nigga you know who run it I gets blunted 168 hours a week
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| P tried to creep an got burnt from head to feet
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| but never sleep on the vocabulary skillz
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| of a nigga that’s out to make mills
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| uh my nigga Phats Bossalini tells all the block cats
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| got a hundred hidden in the stash, fast to blast.
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| Verse 3 *(Numskull)*
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| If it’s one thang this nigga hate
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| it’s niggaz swangin like Chimpaznes
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| that’s why it’s no exception
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| to the shit these niggaz hand me 20 years of struggle
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| huddles an plans can’t amount to millions bubble
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| that’s why we keep stacks tucked and cuddled
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| no matter my home nigga
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| my home is where I’m hustlin
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| wit Killaz On The Payroll
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| makin up for lost pay loads
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| the Bay knows
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| it’s hustle-matic til you drop
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| stop
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| lookin bold through the cuts
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| lookin for cops
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| I kept on runnin for three years
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| too mutha fuckin long
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| and had to cope wit everythang that went wrong
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| I got the Lord in my life
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| not cuz religion
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| but the fact was a nigga had dreams an visions
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| never listened to grown folks
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| I did my own thang
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| so mutha fuckin what if it’s the wrong thang
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| it’s only one rule I live by keep some Killaz On The Payroll nigga
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| an get yo shit right.
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| I got some Killaz On The Payroll
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| an they know
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| when it’s time to handle business nigga lay low.
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| Verse 4 *(Madd Maxx)*
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| Presentin more urban tales
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| of crack sales
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| an black mail
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| an black males, peelin black males
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| that’s why these California streets is symbolic to Baghdad
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| it’s sad
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| they did my comrad bad
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| smoked him wit the mag
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| now he’s walkin wit a cane
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| and wearin a shit bag
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| my loc keep me focused got me sportin this rag
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| wit this tradgey
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| added to agony
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| an frustration Farrah Kahn himself couldn’t stop me retaliation
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| cuz his only climax
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| was pay back
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| he let his wounds heal an got more get back
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| an low track
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| posted up wit the family shack
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| fully strapped
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| wit a Benjamin big faced stack
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| only to get attacked
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| lookin for the sale
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| he put in his work
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| he swore on the turf, put his ass hole in the dirt
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| cuz a million soldier died and served in these circle street wars
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| before the deaths of Biggie and Tupac Shakur
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| Is this the effects of being young black an poor?
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| Do we genetically have what it takes to endure?
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| had killaz lookin for him from Crenshaw
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| to 5th Wards
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| to the O-A-K
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| 6−9 Vill keeps it real
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| cuz men sharpen men
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| like steel sharpen steel
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| we warriors for the skrill
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| wit a whole lot of will
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| an I’m never gonna put down my sword an kill
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| cuz I’m out here in these fields wit the focus of a drill.
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| Yeah, straight Mobbulation/Affiliation. |
| Run up squared and put down
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| assassination |
| I got some Killaz On The Payroll
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| an they know
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| when it’s time to handle business nigga lay low
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| (Uh, you niggaz ain’t knowin)
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| Verse 5 *(Yukmouth)*
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| Uh, uh.
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| Well it’s that Vill nigga
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| that real nigga
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| that fill niggaz wit hot ones
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| combined wit L we doubled barrelled guns
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| mutha fuckaz best run
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| fuckin around wit Al-bum, Num. |
| 2 so do not be fuckin around wit we and we won’t fuck around wit you
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| I do hang wit Dru
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| I do not be fuckin wit busta niggaz like you
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| can’t trust niggaz in yo crew what to do, I don’t be drinkin no brew, I do get high til I kiss the sky an straight up run this
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| juss Hindu, I do I go under and under like True Lies
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| shakin these fleas and shoo-flys
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| royalties from Noo-Trybe
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| got niggaz tryin to twist me like screw drivers
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| but fuck what you claimin
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| we ain’t Mack 10
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| hoobangin, hooride
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| So who die?
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| Nobody ever knew
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| cuz true
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| killaz don’t fuck wit niggaz like you
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| bumpin yo gums bout who got ya feelin the blues
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| drunk an I say
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| grabbin yo pumpkin head like Ooooh
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| I been the Ice Cream Man since '92
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| comin through
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| in the ice cream truck on triple gold shoes
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| fuck too Tru’s
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| Vogues give the hoes blues
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| bitches choose to lose
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| plus I puff indo, fool how could you refuse
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| I do not be fuckin wit broke bitches like you
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| but only if you knew my gang
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| I’d have you running trains through the crew
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| I do but since I got funk wit that No Limit crew
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| somethin new
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| niggaz been tryin to step on my shoes
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| you know who
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| that nigga got a perm like Dru
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| burn like two
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| Remmies when he perform for you
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| I do kick it wit real niggaz from Frisco
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| back to my niggaz from Get Low the RBL
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| my nigga cool
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| Nut 11/5
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| bump this in yo seven ride
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| get a show and bring you
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| about seven die
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| mutha fuckaz startin to bribe
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| but niggaz ain’t bumpin no 4-TAY
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| cuz he too busy (bietch) tryin to smoke some more yay
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| uh Jose around the Bay I knew
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| he be funny lookin like G-Money
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| nigga puffin voos
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| heard you got married to a crack like
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| you need to get some Get Right like Mac Mall
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| cuz it act like you can’t rap at all
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| we havin jobs and swingin on platinum balls
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| so don’t get
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| flat on your walls
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| an get snatched up in a U-Haul
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| cuz you’se a bitch nigga like RuPaul
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| You all think you gonna make money dissin my crew?
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| But only if you knew nigga.
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| You fuckin wit these Mobb niggaz fool, uh.
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| I got some Killaz On The Payroll
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| an they know
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| when it’s time to handle business nigga lay low.
|
| I got some Killaz On The Payroll
|
| an they know
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| an they know. |