| Yeah
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| OG Joe Blow in the house, understand me
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| Layin it down with my boy Messy Marv
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| Yeah, for ah — Slick Rick
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| Yeah, this ain’t no children’s story, though
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| This somethin for the hood, mang
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| So ah — all the OG’s grab your ripple
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| And players grab you twomp sacks
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| Here we go…
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| Once upon a time not long ago
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| When niggas made money slingin dank or dope
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| When chronic was burnin and everything was all good
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| And people were behavin hella bad in the hood
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| There lived a little boy who was misled
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| By another little boy, and this is what he said:
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| «Me and you tonight, we’re gonna make some cash
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| Pullin 211's and makin the dash»
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| They did the job, scrilla came with ease
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| But one couldn’t stop, it’s like he had a disease
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| He robbed another and another
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| (Stick em up, stick em up!)
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| And a sister and her brother
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| Tried to rob a man, a SFPD undercover
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| The cop grabbed his arm, he started actin erratic
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| He said, «Keep still, boy, no need for static»
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| Punched him in his belly and he gave him a slap
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| But little did he know the little nigga was strapped
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| The kid pulled out a gun, he said «Why'd ya hit me?»
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| Tec-9 aimed for the cop’s kidney
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| The cop got scared, the kid starts to figure
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| «I'll do years if I pull this trigger»
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| So he cold dashed and ran around the block
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| Cop radioes in to another lady cop
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| He ran by a tree, there he saw the sister
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| Shot for the head, he shot back but he missed her
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| Looked around good and from expectations
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| He decided he’d head for the BART station
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| But (what?) she was coming and he made a left
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| He was runnin top speed till he was out of breath
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| Knocked an old man down and swore he killed him (Sorry!)
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| Then he made his move to an abandoned building
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| Ran up the stairs up to the top floor
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| Opened up the door there, guess who he saw?
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| (Who?) Coon, the dopefiend smokin hella dope
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| Who don’t know the meaning of water nor soap
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| He said, «I need bullets, hurry up, run!»
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| The dopefiend pulled out a sawed-off shotgun
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| He broke outside but there was cops all over
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| Then he dipped into a car, a hyped up Nova
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| Sideways up the block doing 83
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| Crashed into a tree near the KOP
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| Escaped alive though the car was battered
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| Rat-a-tat-tatted and all the cops scattered
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| Ran out of bullets and he still had static
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| Grabbed a lady and pulled out the automatic
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| Pointed at her head, he said the gun was full of lead
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| He told the cops, «Back up or the bitch here’s dead»
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| Deep in his heart he knew he was wrong
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| So he let the lady go and he starts to run on
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| Sirens sounded, he seemed astounded
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| And before long the little boy got surrounded
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| He dropped the Tec, so went the glory
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| And this is the way I have to end this story
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| He was only seventeen, in a poor man’s dream
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| Big Mike shot the kid, I still hear him scream
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| This ain’t funny so bitch, don’t you laugh
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| Just another case about the wrong path
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| So learn a little lesson cause the game don’t last
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| Good night
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| Leave a mess Marv (*repeated*)
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| Yeah
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| That’s right
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| Messy Mizznarv
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| And it goes down
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| For my boy Slick Rick the Ruler
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| And it don’t stop
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| And it don’t quit
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| And it don’t stop
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| I’m on a whole nother level
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| I’m on a whole nother level
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| Trigga Lock Records |