| Check the shit
|
| Nine-six
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| Escobar 600
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| Check the shit
|
| My mindset, son got wet, Im vexed really
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| They snatched off his rolex, smacked his bitch silly
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| Why niggaz actin illy word to will he bout to feel it I feel it, he shoulda been dealt wit it Them niggaz sour, they put to much flour in they coke
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| And got the nerve to wonder why they broke
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| While we was gleamin, niggaz was scheamin
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| Seen the ill beamers beamin
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| Triple-beam and doublin cream, had em feenin
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| To get they fingers on the dosa, I called sosa
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| Sosa, these niggaz hit the god, bring the toaster
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| Meet me in the bridge Im bout to go loca
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| Left my rat beggin me to stay and stroke her
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| He came through with two fly bitches, venus and vicious
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| Wit two macs inside the volvo, what up god, Im still sober
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| I need some henn to bend me over
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| My nigga hav got a soldier
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| Its gettin down its goin down kid (I got this, I got this)
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| I heard he might not live, Im holdin back tears
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| Told these broads, to put it in gear
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| With two females that dont smile diggin they style yo Whattup son, these niggaz done started somethin wild
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| You know the clique well, ramel with the gold in his grill
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| Tried to get a name holdin the steel, I paid attention to the females
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| Maintain bitches when it get real
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| Sos pulled me close and told me the deal
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| He said both hoesll peel, spray shots and reload
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| And still handle the wheel, point em out smoke a phil then chill
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| I layed back escobar status, knowin the firm got it cornered
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| We on it, shit we was born wit
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| Chorus: havoc
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| Spark the lye, q.b.c. |
| yo its do or die
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| In this, business and trifeness
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| I finesse this, for r.d., we chef shit
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| Perfect shit, albert einstein minds connect wit
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| Dangerous sons, step back let the tech lift
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| Lift you up, bless you wit a shorty then we set you up Spark the lye, q.b.c. |
| yo its do or die
|
| In this, business and trifeness
|
| We finesse this, for r.d., we chef shit
|
| Perfect shit, albert einstein minds connect wit
|
| Dangerous sons, step back let the tech lift
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| Lift you up, bless you wit a shorty then we set you up Hold it right there pull over
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| That nigga right there inside the rover
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| I knew hed be right here, I told ya Lets get him now, look at him smile, ice bulova
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| Polo pullover, big links and rockin boulders
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| Hes stuntin, after he left my man like that
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| Without a fair chance to fight back, but Ill be right back
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| He never seen us, sos gave the mac to venus
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| And vicious, lookin delicious, handle yo bidness
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| And step to him, shake yo ass try to screw him
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| Do what ya gotta do to get to him
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| A tight parasuco, with young faces
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| Can turn niggaz buttafuco, of all ages, they was amused
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| By the way they walked, way they talked
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| Only if they knew these girlsd spray new york
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| If they had to, heard him ask venus, «could I have you? |
| «He jumped out a jeep, heard her tell him, «dont grab boo»
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| They started chattin, was only bout a minute, flat when
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| They jumped in the back of the jeep laughin
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| We followed them pollyin, he thought the hoes were somalian
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| Probably wanted to hit the holiday inn
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| I grabbed the phone and called the mobb and them
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| We layed low about a hour or so, these bitches movin too slow
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| We both holdin, what if them wild hoes started foldin?
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| Sosa, said say no more, we started rollin
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| Before we got in they must have shot him, security wildin
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| There the girls go, hurry up we out in The 940, me sosa and two shorties
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| The punk niggaz got murdered in the orgy
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| Q.b.c.
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| Queensbridge motherfucker
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| Ropin niggaz up Cause our click is thick
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| Another day another dollar
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| More money, more murder
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| Fuck this shit, q.b. |
| up in the house |