| Yo, uh, it’s Task Force Tuesday, the NARCS is in the black car
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| I got five hundred, hundred packs in my backyard
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| Clear twelve-twelve's that look like stuff shells
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| I’m cuttin' niggas throats on the sails while they puff L’s
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| Don’t leave nothin' unbagged, shave everything
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| I learned from the O.G.'s to save everything (to save everything)
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| They come by one more time they gon' hop out
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| They two deep, and one is a bitch, she gettin' knocked out
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| Then I can get rid of the pack
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| But I just copped this pretty chrome thing, so I’m dippin' with that
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| Uh, down-shiftin' on 'em like I got gears on me (Run!)
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| Besides that, I got about 5 years on me (Run!)
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| Scared to death, runnin' like I got bears on me (Run!)
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| My Timb’s start feelin' like they Nike Air’s on me (Run!)
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| It’s hard for me to slow down, it’s like I’m on the through-way
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| My belt’s in the crib on the floor by my two-way
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| Now I’m tryin' hold my hammer up, and my pants too
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| If they don’t kill me, they gon' give me a number I can’t do
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| Rather it be the streets, then jail where I die at
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| And I’m asthmatic, so I’m lookin' for somewhere to hide at
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| But they too close, and I got this new toast
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| 'Magine if I would of let off a shot or two, you know what I gotta do
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| Baby, I hear you knocking at my door, I look
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| Baby, I hear you knocking at my door, I look
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| Baby, I hear you knocking at my door, I look |