| Verse One:
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| Yo, the Lord is my shepard
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| The sword is my weapon
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| Reward is a blessin', that comes from the struggle
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| Shoes been scuffled, blood’s been shed, another Mother loses a son
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| 'cause where I’m from the young chooses a gun
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| Before they choose an education
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| But once dead their ain’t no awakenin'
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| So like once said, life ain’t for fakin
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| Yo, you wit' me when I say duct tape 'em?
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| Fuck waitin'
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| Got the truck outside, Benz jeep for navigation
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| Everything in position, they’d rather be fuckin' wit' Satan
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| When I aim I ain’t missin', master of assasination'
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| I heard he call himself Esco, drive a Lexo
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| Rocks his hat sideways, showin' off his waves with a chipped tooth
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| Is this the truth?
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| This is what we do, sip a brew
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| Wait around his crib until it turns around two AM
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| As soon as he walks in the door we slay 'em
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| You guys got fat while I was away, so start payin'
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| Chorus — Okay, you wanna play rough?!
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| (gun shots) (scratching — a thug changes, and love changes) repeat 3X
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| Okay yo, we could play rough!
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| Verse Two:
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| Okay now, drive up to my crib, am I high enough?
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| Who these niggas tryin' to hide in their truck
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| I ain’t order cable, why in the fuck these niggas
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| Ducked in they seat? |
| are they lookin' for me?
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| But I ain’t do shit, could it be that niggas thought
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| I slept like B.I.G. |
| and Pac did
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| May they rest in peace, but while I’m alive I pop shit
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| P-11 Glock spits 17 shot clips
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| Put these niggas in boxes, where they Moms and Pops is
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| Pull the strap from under the seat
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| Back up in the street
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| Watch these niggas thats tryin' to watch me, I carefully creep
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| Take off my shoes, barefoot nigga poppin' my heat
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| Empty every shell in their direction
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| Its you, I should’ve guessed it!
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| Same niggas that I was connected wit', I know sent you
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| Now I’m’a take you off here, you dont know what you got into
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| Verse Three:
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| Walked in his house, smackin' him up, «what you talkin' about?» |
| he said
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| Shut-up nigga! |
| knocked him in his head with chrome
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| Never thought I’d be in his home
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| With his wife taped up for my niggas to bone
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| Fuckin' with me, you should’ve known
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| I’ll have 'em write «stupid nigga» on your tombstone
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| What money can do, get you hit for less than a G
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| For threatenin' me
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| I’m’a do it myself, take you to Hell, this ones for free
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| Killin' you niggas with nothin'
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| Left him dead, engine runnin'
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| You the only I’m makin' sure that gets whats comin'
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| Look at your Woman, anal ripped out, its your fault
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| They gang banged your bitch out in your face and you saw it
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| But before I let you have it I’m searchin' your crib
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| For pictures of relatives, addresses to where they live
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| Shit like that, incase a nigga wanna strike back
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| I’ll be right up in his ass to blow 'em out with the Mac
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| Niggas treat you like Fam, and you on it like that?
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| Now you gotta lay flat, gettin' eatin' by rats
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| Gettin' even’s never wrong, its only right to react
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| Eye for an eye, 'cause the sweetest part is payback
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| Somebody kncokin', who dat?
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| «a cop man», let him in
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| And give that mothafucka one under the chin
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| Can’t believe this nigga down with the Feds!
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| The copped screamed out your government before he dropped dead
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| Dont explain, I put the pound on his head
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| Blew 'em! |
| before that I can’t remember the last time I said…
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| Okay, so we gonna play rough! |