| We gun hold and not one cold and safe under the sun solar
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| So when I squeeze off 8, I’m guaranteed to make 7-Up yours like the uncola
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| Or retorically nice almost effortlessly
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| Born with a silver spoon in my mouth like infants with epilepsy
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| Shit, years after my prime leaves
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| I might have to resort to lettin' the nine squeeze to convince dick riders
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| To kindly let go of mine please
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| You a third nut separated at birth one conjoined testicle to tongue siamese
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| Last summer we jumped Out The Speakers and fucked shit up with the Vianese
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| Now watch me take a cold and this piss with a full bladder make time freeze
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| Golden shower the globe 'till every snowman across the fuckin' planet turns
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| Chinese
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| My mentality is necrose red dot shit
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| To the face of the planet catchin' back here’s ya' freckles
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| Me and J-U overshadowed the league, so you blaze battlin' with two dicks in
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| Yo' mouth till 'yo jaws give it out from battle fatigue
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| The professional’s red dot’ll turn these niggas into vegetables
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| So vivid I could kick it at the Cannes Film Festival
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| Decaffienated coffee shop niggas get assassinated
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| I was vaccinated with a syrum that was rap related
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| I spit a theorem full strength I don’t approximate
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| Intoxicate ya' ho and show you footage o' da cock she ate
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| Whether Glock 3−8 grenades and street sweepers
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| Address me on yo' knees like students should greet teachers
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| My intellect special, I hold my tech special
|
| Jet Li or Bruce, pick one I’m next level
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| The rest see me new some smoke six blunts inhale em'
|
| And hang em' out to dry like Witch Hunts in Salem
|
| Shit my status dope enough to catapult me to the top
|
| We blew the spot like it was just another buddah drop
|
| You couldn’t dream of winning if you used your imagination
|
| Triangle Offense and Molemen collaboration
|
| Am I the sickest nigga shittin' on em'?
|
| No doubt
|
| Y’all niggas want the heat?
|
| Than get ya' dough out
|
| Kill with niggas before they even spit they flow out, we brought it
|
| When y’all took the whole route
|
| Fuck around and get yo' ass tore out
|
| Am I the nicest nigga spittin' it?
|
| No doubt
|
| You niggas want the heat?
|
| Get ya dough out
|
| Big Juice rip niggas before they even spit they flow out, we brought
|
| It while y’all niggas took the whole route
|
| Fuck around and get your ass tore out
|
| And like I said we spit the vividest rhymes because we livin' it
|
| You’ll need eight more rappers just to make this shit equivalent
|
| Juice crush this, any mic that Juice touches
|
| We be all in your girlfriend’s mouth like toothbrushes
|
| Nasty off the head and when I’m in the booth fuck it
|
| Like the skin on Edward James Olmos I’m too rugged
|
| I could either thug it, lug it round or unplug it
|
| Represent illmatic half time on one love it
|
| It’s murder to cassette and I beg you to come dub it
|
| We could either use our hands but Tom just stun gun it
|
| And I ain’t ever been known to have the cleanest and demeanor
|
| But I get the whole U.S. Open like Venus and Serena
|
| Period, this is How We Chill, Freestyle or Written
|
| When we came Out The Speakers last year they didn’t listen
|
| So next time I crack they bones follow me
|
| I’m so much doper than mc’s, I owe these niggas an apology
|
| Fuck sweating bullets niggas perspiring
|
| Sixteen shot clips when I put they heat on slow roast
|
| I don’t just outshine you, I show my ass and make yo' face the co-host
|
| While me and J-U run a triangle on yo' bitch
|
| Feeding these balls in a low post
|
| I’m a cross breed between
|
| Letter T crosses in the letter I infrared sick dot us
|
| Poison fingers until my wig smarter, from a hennison vine a stigmata with
|
| Lacerations half Christ and Big Poppa
|
| I’ll push the envelope far beyond the term ill limits
|
| That’s why some of the nicest is still timid
|
| If I said it than Kill meant it
|
| Playa, only way yo' jersey hanging from the rafters
|
| Is if yo' bitch ass still in it
|
| One penis lacin' double penetration my pen is wastin' a semen tastin'
|
| Substance on a fragment of yo' imagination
|
| Fuck for the laugh of the exit wounds
|
| I’ll plug brains with .50 caliber slugs and plant seeds in exit wounds
|
| I wipe my shit cat or corn it’s just to whip motherfuckers
|
| And zig-zag and watch his wig drag
|
| In 2000 Triangle Offense gettin' dough and big bags
|
| While you buy season tickets to ride dicks fag like six flags
|
| Am I the nicest nigga spittin' it?
|
| No doubt
|
| Y’all niggas want the heat?
|
| Get ya dough out
|
| Big Juice rip niggas before they even get they flow out, we brought
|
| It while y’all niggas took the whole route
|
| Fuck around and get your ass tore out
|
| Am I the sickest nigga shittin' on em'?
|
| No doubt
|
| Y’all niggas want the heat?
|
| Than get ya' dough out
|
| Kill with niggas before they even spit they flow out, we brought it
|
| When y’all took the whole route
|
| Fuck around and get yo' ass tore out |