| Suckers on the 'Gram with blammy, they tell him to use it
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| My brudda brudda just paroled, family reunion
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| I know a hundred niggas broke that ain’t sellin' the toolage
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| Pink fifties lookin' crispy, the hundreds is bluein'
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| My location is the ghetto, I’m bomfortably boolin'
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| The Crips love me on the B, niggas fuck with the movement
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| Lil' Jewish prostitute, blew a bag on the jewels
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| Blew a stack on Amiris, then blew a stack on the shoes
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| Ayy, if they threatened you with life, would you crack on your goon?
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| I tend to whisper when I feel it’s a rat in the room
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| How you put the homies on, but let your brothers starve?
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| That nigga Bob was takin' trips inside his mother car
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| It’s Oak Park, 4th Ave, forever fuck a star
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| Thirty P’s inside a duffle, this a hundred large
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| Damn, my nigga died off a couple bars
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| I can’t believe you think you sippin' with that cup of Par
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| Them cold cuffs’ll turn a boy to a man, y’all
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| If he ain’t takin' care his kids, don’t understand dawg
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| Nightmares of being captured in a standoff
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| Ain’t even make it to arraignment 'fore she ran off
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| Them cold cuffs’ll turn a boy to a man, y’all
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| If he ain’t takin' care his kids, don’t understand dawg
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| Nightmares of being captured in a standoff
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| Ain’t even make it to arraignment 'fore she ran off
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| Hundred-fifty thou' in twenties just to throw around
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| Pollute the air with Candy, girl, we just blew a pound, move around
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| Ayy, ten-to-four, dice lose if they don’t hit him now
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| Fuck around and strip him, he ain’t been around
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| I miss the green and the yellow store
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| You got potential, they don’t tell us, though
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| So we’ll never know
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| I miss Deezy, hard to let him go
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| I love you Terrion and A, this shit forever 4, yeah
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| I’m deeply rooted, nigga, set in stone
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| They wanna know if I’m One Mob, run and tell 'em no
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| 'Cause I’m from 4th and only, 4th and 12th my second home
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| Real traditional gang member, they respect it, though
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| He dissin' Zo in all his songs and we gon' catch him, though
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| I mention Zo in all my songs, that’s inevitable, yeah
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| I should’ve been at Deray’s service, he’s irreparable
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| Any excuse that I could think of unacceptable with standards
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| Them cold cuffs’ll turn a boy to a man, y’all
|
| If he ain’t takin' care his kids, don’t understand dawg
|
| Nightmares of being captured in a standoff
|
| Ain’t even make it to arraignment 'fore she ran off
|
| Them cold cuffs’ll turn a boy to a man, y’all
|
| If he ain’t takin' care his kids, don’t understand dawg
|
| Nightmares of being captured in a standoff
|
| Ain’t even make it to arraignment 'fore she ran off |