| We on top of the world
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| On top of the game
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| Yo, Yo
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| I turn it up like the stove on
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| In Miami Marvin' out with whole bomb
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| I got fiends that been waiting for a whole month
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| Niggas still tryna sell them what they don’t want
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| I run around higher than the age rate
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| Big 9s on my side never aim straight
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| 100 grams but it’s looking more like 6
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| 5 rounds with the champion the fight’s fixed
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| 4 EPs dropping in the same year
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| 3 Clubs a night, Henny in the same year
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| 2 Hoes a town when we on a world tour
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| Everyday been the same since ‘04
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| Money, money, money, money, money, money, credit
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| Getting too much of it now we burn it up or shred it
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| Spend it in the strip club or may then we bet it
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| Top of the game now I wonder where we headed
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| This is New York, guerilla rhymes
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| Stop signs, killer crimes
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| Old niggas reminisce, dream bout the benefits
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| Talk about they day when they was doin they shit
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| Hand to hand fights all day we just spray shit
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| Nowadays they do a crime on Vine
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| Record they own self, evidence for one-time
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| The reason you got caught with your work
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| Because you was on Instagram with the same damn shirt
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| I don’t like niggas checking ma phone
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| I got dick pics that I send to dick chicks
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| Chicks drink cum like a mystic
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| Exquisite
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| I ain’t going trip shit
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| I just rip shit
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| Stripper bowl, tip shit
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| I used to have a chick named Monica
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| All she wanted do is run drills with Veronica
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| Always had something in her mouth, thermometer
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| Fuck it, a 100 miles per hour
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| I been one to have these new niggas under my left arm
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| Flow game weak like they balls is stepped on
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| Duffle gang niggas get hogtied
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| Paper never passing me by like the far side
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| You can either get a soft 9 or a hard 5
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| Play your cards right you be like Diamond, those large piles
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| Ball for ball, I’m a prison dawg you a halfway house
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| Pump with the smoking nigga pull an ashtray out
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| Since 96 been a bull in the game like Hinrich
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| They fighting in the lab im in the streets with 9 bricks
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| Still puttin in work all I need is a hard hat
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| I’m flying in a new G5 on the tarmac
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| Every time you see me in the street know I’m walking with the heat
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| I ain’t talking Lebrons on my feet
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| Fucking with made men, there’s dons on the beat
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| Give me whatever promise and be gone in a week
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| I’m rising up the in line
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| With rhyming but
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| Lining up the father of rhyme
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| Punk if you try to front
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| I give em some bullshit
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| I’m talking the years Michael one
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| Numbers don’t lie it’s clear I’m not the one
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| Peep the structure I’m built different I bought a house
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| So field niggas can chill in it
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| My realism is rare
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| If you don’t feel me deal with it
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| I’m so focused on winning I don’t know what failure is
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| Not acceptable I acknowledge the big picture
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| My arts impeccable even my arms immeasurable
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| Dope schemes, short range, ply for revenue
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| Dollars reign supreme don’t bow to ineptitude
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| I’m a very lyrical unique individual
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| Livin' free ever since I cut the beat’s umbilical
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| Visual, but niggas can’t see me
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| I’ve been the truth, no lie
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| Killin cause i’m playing by different rules
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| Yo NORE should I hold back cause
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| Some of these suckas in the crowd wanna hear
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| We got gas to get that strip, moving a fast lip
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| Before rap my name was ringing in the projects |