| Mack 10 said he got it and he servin fo' six
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| But I’m the bird man nigga, need to score some shit
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| I need a warehouse full, with pets, riders
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| And bulls couple of chopper, mack 11, and some Hot Boy Hood
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| My Lil' Bitch Kisha said she hit the mall, bought some goods
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| She gone bring it straight to daddy, break her off with the wood
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| The beauty shop stay poppin', cause this zones keep rockin
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| And my phone keep plunckin', cause these hoez keep jockin
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| Just bought a new six with bra-less kit
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| Put me on the floor two nines in my hip
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| The reason the drought is cause the feds done bust' my ship
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| Got a crew of head busters that will split your shit
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| Got a old and young bitch that’ll take that trick
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| Hit the streets, with that work 400 a zip
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| Gave my nigga ??? |
| car go break them bricks
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| Go flood that magnoila cause I want that bitch
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| KC take this Glock, make will of the spot
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| Tanto, Tito and Wap ya’ll hug the block
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| And we gon tell the police, this this where money be clocked
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| And they can suck a nigga dick cause the hustle dont stop
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| You could beg shorty, you could keep it dirty
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| You could flip a birdy, you could cut it and serve it
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| And I keep it real, and I play the field
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| And I know when to deal, and I know when to kill
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| And I flip the guns, when I collect the funds
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| And I make all the ones, and I can play the drums
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| You could hang in a jungle, you could push them bundles
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| You could drive a Bentley, you could drive a Hummer
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| Look Nigga know that I got that work
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| So he plottin' and watchin' try to see when I’m gone
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| So he could break in my housin
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| I’m a bake a cake for 'im, make 'im think I’m out of town
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| I know he’s here hustlin' I want my monkey talkin loud tellin' my round
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| I’ll be there pick me up from the port
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| On my way to Nashville, 10 bricks I’m goin to score
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| Probably get a lil' dope, cause that dope make more money 20 dollars for a
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| Bag
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| Half a gram for 100
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| This nigga just don’t know
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| I’m on top of my game
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| Should have keep it to himself but instead he told Elaine
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| That I’ma get that nigga Turk
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| So I got to bust his brains
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| Cause if I let that nigga slide than he gon' try to do it again
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| So I gotta handle that mind
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| Get rid of the bitch quick
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| Bust him up fast throw him in a lake and spilt
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| Jack who, take what, from who, not me
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| Get a bullet in your head and leave that ass in the streets
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| Hook
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| From Atlanta the drive-bys low ridin and shit talkin'
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| Sherm smokin, crack, sellin'
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| Blood and Cripp walkin
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| Mack One-0's the name nigga
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| Hustlin' is my thang nigga CMR and West Side
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| Who Bang is the game nigga
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| Recognize a G in me, off top we wig-splitters
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| Young and Thuggin' like Turk and them head bustin' niggas check it
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| I like the funk and shoot first is what they tell me
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| And no matter what it cost Slim and Baby gon bail me
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| I fight all my murder and dope cases from the bricks
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| Known and loved by every hoochie, bitch, and project chick
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| Cause I floss ice and buy crack at the boss price
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| And I been fucked and sucked by all my hoez at least twice
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| I’m reppin killah Cali, but down with them south niggas
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| U know, them uptown gold and platinum mouth niggas
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| Mack stay cockin' low, and down to ride for the cause
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| We keep it crackin' from Crenshaw to the Mardi gras
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| Chicken Hoez, game affiliated and drung related
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| I’m a drop-top Bentley pushin nigga with my crop braided
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| From the feet up G’d up is my everyday behavior
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| A million dollar nigga, still ride in Chuck Taylor’s
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| The fans worse then them jackers, try to keep me in sight
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| Gotta take backstreets and alleys to get home every night
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| Mack is to much of a rider
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| I could never be a sucker
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| I’ma ball till I fall and keep it gangster as a motherfucker
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| Hook |