| Listen, I wouldn’t give a fuck if I get Ross Perot rich
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| You’ll never catch me slipping, that’s on the one nigga
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| I keep shit tight cause I’m a solid nigga, you heard me
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| Even when I’m smoking on some doe-doe, or sipping on some mo-mo
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| I always keep the 4−4, what what
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| You fucking with niggas, that’s bout chilling
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| You fucking with niggas, that’s bout killing and digging a lot of holes
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| You playing with grown men, that’ll beat you to mush
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| No matter the money or power, you could be touched
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| Ashes to ashes, nigga dust to dust
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| You shorten your own life, when you fuck with us
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| See I was nurtured, by the bosom of the block
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| That told me in a heated situation, grab the Glock and pop
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| Unil it stops and never turn back, you understand
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| Soon as you feel remorse, them niggas got the upper hand
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| You’ll never, catch this nigga slipping
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| My periferal vision, one big up on your on intentions so
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| So even when you catch me, smoking on the doe-doe
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| Or sipping, on a taste of mo-mo
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| I never leave the crib, without the fo'-fo' that’s a no-no
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| Somebody leaving with a bo-bo, up in they go-go
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| Repetitive niggas I go against, they don’t have a chance
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| They won’t survive, they’ll tell you I’m a hell of a man
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| I devour the weak, and dissesemble the strong
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| So called rappers, with song after song
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| When will the world understand, that I can’t be stopped
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| It won’t be as easy, as it was with Pac
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| I’m smarter now, took a situation and learned
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| Can’t trust a nigga, cause niggas’ll get you burned
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| Watch paparazzi, a lot of stories’ll turn
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| Trying to get you killed, behind the same money you earn
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| Shot my dog, scared of the power that he possessed
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| But it ain’t over nigga, guess who’s next
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| Give me a reason, I’ll open fire like it’s kill-a-nigga season
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| You heathens, don’t deserve breathing
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| I suck the life out of your body, with every word that I speak
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| And when I’m finished, I’m hoping that that you deceased
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| I keep my enemies close, watch they moves I ain’t no fool
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| Just because, I dropped out of school
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| It’s called common sense, and street smarts
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| Too much heart’ll get you tossed in the park, nigga lost in the dark
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| I live the laws of my land, where it’s kill or be killed
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| So don’t question, if this pistol in my hand is real
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| Don’t question if the stories, that you heard are real
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| Just understand nigga, this is how I was born for real |