| Count this dough up
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| Call my name, I’m gon' show up
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| Young, bout to pour up
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| Quarter pint in my soda
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| Now picture me rollin'
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| My V-12, that’s twin turbo
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| Fuck with that Gelardo
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| But the 'rari I prefer though
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| Y’all, war verbal
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| We candle your curb up
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| Police can’t control us
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| They just react to these murders
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| Take y’all niggas off
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| And be back in the mornin'
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| Last time was a walk up
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| Now we poppin' out the foreign
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| Stickin' to the script
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| Y’all got too many stories
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| Talk just like a bitch
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| We got too many Maury’s
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| Loose lips to sink the ship
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| But break the levees like New Orleans
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| I always move in silence
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| Except when I’m recordin'
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| Mama raised a king
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| Wasn’t fit to be a doctor
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| Product of my environment
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| Sirens and helicopters
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| Murder, kidnap for capital’s
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| Only one half of the problem
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| Prices on top of heads
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| Go through hell just to get that dollar
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| Rich and dangerous in the City of Angels
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| Everything about me, Slausangeles
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| Everyone around me still bang, don’t bang with us
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| Disrespect the set and we on your neck if you don’t hang with us
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| It’s Slausangeles |