| I’m on the block sacked up,
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| got twomps of kill,
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| Gurpin' in my 74 Bonneville,
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| no time to chill,
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| I’m the grind for real.
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| What you want?
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| What you need?
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| Tryin to find some pills,
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| well come holla at yo neighborhood thug supply,
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| got everythang a nigga love to buy,
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| It’s me, MD
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| skirtin from the killer whales,
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| Black and White is always on a nigga’s tail.
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| but I’m hypo, nitro, keep the Chevy Vogue’n, floatin,
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| from sac to oakland and the sack you smokin
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| nobody does it better, gangsta mac, kill a nigga and the bitch I swear to
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| gets my chedder),
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| ching ching and all that.
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| put it in a backwood
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| nigga roll that,
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| It’s nothing playa,
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| a little game and muscle,
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| it’s all it takes to get a gang of ruffles,
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| I sit low in my homeboys Chevy, my Makaveli hat pulled down by my eyes,
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| yo baby peep the science of something that’s an actual fact yo,
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| you can’t mix love with rap,
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| you better step back
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| my K Swiss like to step on the gas,
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| and if you knew how fast, you’d think I just might crash,
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| I think I saw the devil all up in my purple bag, and still I had to roll fat,
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| Can you believe that?
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| Can I believe that?
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| Did you retrieve that?
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| the money in the bag,
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| homie i’m a need that,
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| my blackberry cellphone confuses me,
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| I got women talking about Nicky you using me,
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| I got coogi rap yo, in my speakers in the back,
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| my car shine like a new gat, I’m with the genie of the lamp,
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| comin off the exit ramp,
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| I grab cash like a calf cramp,
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| I like garlic butter with aleodo crab,
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| my son had a fight,
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| I told him work the jab,
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| sometimes i’m very stingy,
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| but yo i’m mostly greedy,
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| man eatin onion rings.
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| on Poke street, that very greasy,
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| man it’s cracking like a flower seed,
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| blowing off a Gang weed,
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| not to the authority*,
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| picture four more of me,
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| racing through this shit like the olympics,
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| running red lights,
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| never caring about a witness.
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| I sit low in my homeboys Chevy, my Makaveli hat pulled down by my eyes,
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| yo baby peep the science of somethin that’s an actual fact yo,
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| you can’t mix love with rap,
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| you better step back,
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| my K swiss like the step on the gas,
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| and if you knew how fast, you think I just might crash,
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| I think I saw the devil all up in my purple bag, and still I had to roll fat,
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| Can you believe that? |