| 1−2-3 I’m up to bat so pitch me an MC so I can get ill
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| And knock his ass into left field
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| I’m still a body bruisin' master
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| Dat some ole' evil little bastard get fast and I’ll outcast ya
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| Like port huh we on some ole' new shit my click is hip hop it
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| 5−6 we hit cha from the bricks back the fuck up like Onyx said
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| Don’t make me act the fuck up I’m known to have a hot head
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| Hey call me the mud city mangler the nigga neck yolk tangler
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| A star spangler boogie banger
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| Rottin' Razklas
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| 118 on the scene I’m representin'
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| And if I ain’t punchin' and thumpin' I’m stompin'
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| And kickin'' in nigga take a step back
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| It ain’t even all that nigga catch a cap
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| If ya don’t wanna brawl jack
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| Guzzle down a 40 till I’m all full
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| Take another hit of the dirl with a long pull
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| I gets blitzed outta proper state of mind
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| When me and my click searchin' for trouble to find
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| No he didn’t but I’ll you
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| Hook:
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| I tell you what good with deez some and the how
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| Cause that’s why I stays with my klickow klickow (x2)
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| Right out the alleys of Cali
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| Not eh balley straight out the hood is the notorious one
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| Hitter quitter skull splitter triggers from Inglewood
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| Watch us bring wreck quick
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| Road Dawgs the next kick
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| Pluggin' you jugular vein it pour like rain when ya neck whip
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| 235 thick
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| Ingelwood Illtown click
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| Low hot off the bricks trot off or get shot off in the mix
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| Boobie and Luvchild staying trues paying dues
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| Madmen with ten millimeter heaters sprayin' fools
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| And slaying crews
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| Who wanna tangle get caught up and dangled yoked and strangle
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| In a fight straight soldiers swingin' pipes from every angle
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| Keep my hand on the nitty Glock fifty
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| Swift with my tool to lift any fool that wanna fuck with me
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| Don’t sleep on Jersey nor California shit is grimmy trim ya limb
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| Blood and phlegm is all on him after we warn ya
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| It’s curtains kids certain things we won’t allow
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| Cause that how we stand with ours klickow klickow
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| Treach:
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| Word to the mother my mother was the only checkin' mines
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| So motherfuck your mother’s father if he step like mines
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| Swift kicking cocks I hit spots and blocks
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| So listen pops then I’ll miss you like I miss measles
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| Mumps plus fuckin' chicken pox
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| Givin' props to all the Old school that paved the way
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| Plus zero I fear no hero you think will up and save the day hey
|
| Three letters describing that ass here’s a clue
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| S-C-K the only thing missing is you
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| Excuse up’s excuse um you’ve yet to lose one two ton
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| Crews son doing more then leaving bruised gums
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| Try it riot I’ll roll quiet you’ll never catch the trap
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| Cause I ain’t the the the that to flap the yap
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| A black alley cats can catch my back
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| And to that and these scrap
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| Back to back wreck to wreck and wreck necks
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| Of macks fake macks break their necks to say I take that back
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| You see it used to be a time you rolled with shanks and friends
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| But nowadays we roll in fuckin' tanks with rims
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| That’s how it go that’s how we roll pow!
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| Cause that’s how I stand with mine klickow klickow
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| Hook
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| Gutta Nigga and I Face Finsta the two man cruddy collision
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| Illtown’s villian that’s wanted for some niggas killin'
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| Keep my material similar to a serial killer
|
| Peeling cats check my stats ain’t no nigga iller
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| Now here I go with the klick klacks the Tatter rat ta ta tat tats patter
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| Pat
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| Pats to better brat packs
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| I’m airing shit out like DAT
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| Jack it’s judgement day and I’m seenin' is human beings
|
| Got cha fleein' word to me Mook Daddy and Little Steven
|
| Comin' straight form the top notch of hip hop
|
| Niggas gather round to the sound that nigga from the gutta not
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| Kick that slang talk explain why ya can’t walk
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| It ain’t my fault ya hit a flip and couldn’t sommersault
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| I’m on a route with my nigga on some new shit
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| Flowin' with that music nigga WON’T YOU USE IT
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| To your advantage if you could manage the damage
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| I’m handing when ya get the fuckin' mic it leave ya hands branded
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| Ya backwards ass assborn assbackwards
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| Coming out feet first and getting drugged into this next verse
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| On the contrary I’m not ya ordinatry adversary
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| That’s secondary I leave ya floatin' like a fuckin' ferry
|
| Advancing my chances and ya retreatin'
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| From the beatin' ya seekin'
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| Fuckin' with me and feel your fluids leakin'
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| On time for too much tough talk
|
| Nigga walk and keep walking
|
| Fore I take ya tongue and make you stop talking
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| I’ll meet ya at death’s gate when a nigga took a step late
|
| Jacked 'em for his place he set up shot in the next state
|
| Yo zapping all the zip zags not that all the zig zag
|
| Shot 'em in the stomach now he’s living out a shit bag
|
| Ha ha ha fag couldn’t fuck with a nigga with nine rounds
|
| A rugged Cruddy Click from the guttas of Illtown
|
| This ain’t a rap along clap along song son my shit is on
|
| With more thong then Janet with her panties on
|
| Ya best to get it out the way boy
|
| The two slickest to ever kick it now klickow klickow
|
| Hook |