| Microphone checka, swingin’sword lecture
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| Closin’down the sector, supreme neck protector
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| Better warn 'em kid, Mr. Meth’s a boiling pot
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| About to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV
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| For cheesy, too many wanna be hard be easy
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| It’s all N’together, going all out together
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| It don’t take much to please me Still homes I’m never satisfy like the Stones
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| We don’t condone bitin’see them selling crossbones
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| Protecting what I’m writing
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| Don’t clash with the Titan who blast with a license
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| To kill rap reciting
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| Come on, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home
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| TICAL! |
| (Fuck your lifestyle!)
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| Put your lights out
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| Get the shit to crackin’got you feenin’with your pipes out
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| Time for some action, surfin’the avenue
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| Mad at you, where I used to battle crews
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| Back when Antoinette had that attitude
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| Cover me I’m going in, walls closing in Got us bustin’off these pistols
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| My niggas got issues, again, same song
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| Armed with the mega bomb
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| Blow you out the frame and then I’m gone.
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| Yo, I was going too but we roam, cellular phones
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| Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bones
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| Don’t condone, spit bank loans and homegrown
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| Suckers break like Turbo and Ozone
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| When I, grab the broom
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| Moon-walk platoon hawk my goons bark
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| Leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true)
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| Three nines and a glove with Nasu he dying in the car
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| While we behind on the bars
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| Haters don’t touch (what?) weigh us both up Now my neighbor dope up Got the cable hooked up, all channels
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| Lift my shirt all mammals
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| You ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos.
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| Sawed off shotgun
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| Hand on the pump, sippin’on a forty
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| Yo smokin’on a blunt
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| Bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped
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| La, la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaaa
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| Yeah come on, Red and Meth gettin jumped
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| La, la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaaa |