| Brand new Nipsey
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| Track by RStylez
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| Ay, ay, ay, Nipsey, we in the building, my nigga
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| Slauson Boy Records
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| Ha ha, right
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| Ay, ay, my nigga, look, check this out, homie
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| Stop blowin' up my muthafuckin' phone, cuz
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| A nigga ain’t gon' get there no quicker, you feel me?
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| My nigga, I be makin' them swerves
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| I do my thang, quick to switchin' lanes
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| These niggas, man, they get on my nerves
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| Always call me back, say they need a sack
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| So nigga, I be makin' them swerves
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| I do my thang, switchin' lanes
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| These niggas, man, they get on my nerves
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| Blowin' up my phone, they need the zones
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| So nigga I be makin' them swerves
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| Look, I stay on the grind
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| That’s why you see me on the BG, I stay on the dime
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| I stash money out of sight, but it stay on my mind
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| Sells blowin' up my phone, so I stay on my line
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| I see these dumb niggas, chasin' sales down the block
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| Fuckin' young niggas, takin' mark money from the cops
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| Every day I hit the turf, I’m like, «just come through»
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| Servin' quarters to the homies in the luxury coupe
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| I sip the Veuv and eat cake, and blow the kush through the roof
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| And play cat and mouse with CRASH cops, you know how we do
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| Stay off the radar, I dipped on Johnny in the Regal
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| Cracked a fat bitch, the next day I took her Geo
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| Green on green tint with Betty Boop in her window
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| Same block, same cop, they drove right past a nigga
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| I’m smarter than the average nigga from your set
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| Nip Hussle, muthafucka, I got traps to check
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| My nigga, I be makin' them swerves
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| I do my thang, quick to switchin' lanes
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| These niggas, man, they get on my nerves
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| Always call me back, say they need a sack
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| So nigga, I be makin' them swerves
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| I do my thang, quick to switchin' lanes
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| These niggas, man, they get on my nerves
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| Blowin' up my phone, they need the zones
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| So nigga I be makin' them swerves
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| I don’t about y’all niggas but, uh, me, I got a quota every day
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| I wear the same Dickies short but stay with the fresh J’s
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| Little hoodrat bitch, so I stay with the fresh braids
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| Keep a spot on the block to tuck when the feds raid
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| My network on the turf, it’s like the mob
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| When I pull up on my block, all my workers on they job
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| I give 'em their work, they give me my cash (Cool)
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| They pay for a seven, I throw 'em a half
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| I’m tryna connects on the herd and spread like a rash
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| 'Cause I heard in D.C., it’s 500 a half
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| That’s a thousand a whole -- fuck it, I’ll be out in the cold
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| And cook the quarters on a portable stove, my nigga
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| No, you don’t live like this
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| You ain’t never hit a lick and shook town for the flip
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| You never called UPS to track the package you sent
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| You never broke the bricks in a Motel 6, my nigga
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| My nigga, I be makin' them swerves
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| I do my thang, quick to switchin' lanes
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| These niggas, man, they get on my nerves
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| Always call me back, say they need a sack
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| So nigga, I be makin' them swerves
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| I do my thang, quick to switchin' lanes
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| These niggas, man, they get on my nerves
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| Blowin' up my phone, they need the zones
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| So nigga I be makin' them swerves
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| Why they sold bounce and grind motion pounds on the eastside
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| Cop before the cal backed and hopped out the G ride
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| Socked out niggas you thought was real killers
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| That Crenshaw summer school, Thunderdome in the village
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| Back in them days when Rack Capone knocked out Zay
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| And Nip Hussle had to pardon his fade
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| When robbin' niggas was the way that we ate
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| That check cashing, sock a nigga, ripped his pockets then shake
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| And Wet be my blue cuddie and that chrome .380
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| Young niggas havin' money, tuckin' thousands daily
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| Johnny was on us, rough, pulled me over on a dime
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| A quarter in my ass with a pocket full of cash
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| I had some Dickies shorts on, cop told me spread my feet
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| That’s when a nigga like me thank God for briefs
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| Enough of that though, I’m outta here, I had a long day
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| I’m finna shake, cuz, and go do what the song say
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| My nigga, I be makin' them swerves |