| We gon' roll with that right there, aight then
|
| -- beat drops --
|
| Gilla House, muthafucka, Gilla House
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| Gilla House, muthafucka, Gilla House!
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| Yeah, another Def Jam, where we don’t make stars
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| We just sign 'em, uh-huh, that’s what’s up, Big Sox
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| I’m on the grind… (can't wait to shine)
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| Fuck that, I pull your blinds, catch you f’ing with mines, no go 'head
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| I got no time (hate to be wastin' time), muthafucka know the name
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| And know that I ain’t feelin' ya’ll lames, like novacaine
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| Ain’t no way you can (stop the train) or the conductor
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| Of the track, muthafucka, that’s E3, my love for the game
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| (it's just not the same)
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| Unless it’s Gilla House, and Wu-Tang Clan, in the house, cop them thangs
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| Live together and (pop the chain), know your lane
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| Fuck cocaine, stick up, bout to blow your brains off the map
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| The (Flame is back), it’s the amazing
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| J. Blazin' grapes of wrath turn to raisin
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| What part of the (game is that), we not playin'
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| Ya’ll try’nna raise the price at the door, we not payin'
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| So watcha (watcha want?) You kids are slum
|
| And son got knuckles in his Air Force One’s, come on
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| Niggas never seen it this raw (but nothing’s gonna hold me back)
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| Keep the heat up by the big dog (but I don’t wanna hold you back)
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| Nigga gotta get this dough (I just wanna live my life)
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| Nigga gotta get this dough (Live your life)
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| Yo, yo, on the air (thought you dead?) But I returned
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| To give you what you waited four years, now to burn
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| Hold your head (and know your ledge) your life flash by
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| Hey, kid, walk straight, master your high
|
| Method Man (Method Man, Man) Whoa, like Black Rob, go
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| Catch me in the West Wing, I might «Rob Lowe»
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| Yes, I can (yes, I can can) tap your jaw
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| And tell whatever chick that I’m with, slap your broad
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| This is it, (I'm stuck with ya’ll) and ya’ll stuck with me
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| In the lap of luxury, where the hell’s cut for free
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| And the kid (can't fuck with ya’ll) Til I got a tree
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| On some new property, at my new pot to pee, have mercy
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| (Mercy me) Things ain’t what they used to
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| Soon as you get your shot on the top, somebody shoot ya
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| These rhymes (ain't nursery) Life’s a bitch
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| Then you go to court, and she take half your shit, come on!
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| My, life, your life, yeah, Mr. Meth, Big John Studd, yo
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| Ya’ll know how I do it, screw it, all day, everyday
|
| You know what I’m sayin'? |
| Stinkin', drinkin' and fightin' crime
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| Staten Island, stand up, we in the muthafuckin' house
|
| Come on! |