| Now what am I to do
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| Hoes wanna do me, foes wanna do me in
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| Now what am I to do
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| On the streets with the war, and shit you ain’t known
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| Now what am I to do
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| I keep breaking the laws, stay rugged and raw uhh
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| Now what am I to do
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| If I come to jack him then I’m gonna jack you too
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| What am I to do uhh check it out
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| This is for my riders who be moving things
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| Out of state with a full crate doing it big, fooling the pigs
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| Who’s in the mix and who’s not
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| You can tell by the way a fool talks and walks
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| Around the clock, it’s never to late to clock
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| The longer you stay on the block, the bigger the knot
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| We plot schemes that turn dreams into real life
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| Handle our business and do the shit right
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| Now what am I to do, yeah
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| The streets are loyal so I gotta stay true
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| Paid dues and the game will pay you, that’s real
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| Don’t try to act sick, you’ll sit down for your last meal
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| The battle field is made out for real soldiers
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| Bald motherfuckers with stripes on they shoulders
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| Nothing can hold us now, we full throttle
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| Money talks, bullshit walks, that’s the motto
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| Kickin' up dust, we kickin' up dirt
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| Your picking up ounces, we pickin' up birds
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| Under no circumstance do anything piety
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| Why risk your ass trying to cop a quick twenty
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| Every motherfucker I work with is major
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| Nobody menos, nobody can break us
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| Move makers, from Diego to Vegas
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| Real players with the name you can’t blame us
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| Haters can’t stand the next man doing better
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| First you gotta master the skill to make cheddar
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| Faster than the average when it comes to stacking cabbage
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| It ain’t a hobby motherfucker it’s a habit
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| I have it in my blood (what) to taste lute
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| And take fruit to the cranium harder than titanium
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| It’s like a stadium we all play in it
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| Some of you lose and most of us come out winnin'
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| If you all about banging, making others hate you
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| They hate you cause you doing it right, plain and simple
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| Sicko ass fools with tattoos, on the free way
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| In Sunny Southern Cali, CA is where we play
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| Gangs, ten steps ahead of these lames
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| Shipping out full crates from the state where it never rains
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| Don’t complain or take two to the brain
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| I’ll drag your body like the foot drags a ball on the chain
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| You say nothin' when they ask you somethin'
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| You get the run in or get done in when I’m dumpin'
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| 13 rounds that’s the sound, then you hit the ground
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| You ain’t safe or sound when I’m around
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| Now everybody listen, stop, look
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| Lie straight or get booked by this Southside crook
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| Yeah, I leave em shooked in the state of shock
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| Don’t get caught on my block with no strap and your pants drop
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| Now what am I to do
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| Now what am I to do
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| Now what am I to do
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| Now what am I to do, to do, to do, to do |