| Chorus: Final Chapter
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| Is you a real or a fake nigga
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| Get caught and run ya trap to the jake niggas
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| Tryin to turn a benjamin into a 8 figga
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| When shit get sweet, this click we can taste it
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| Ain’t nuthin worse than a snake on a daily basis
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| The words that test, my job to the shit is trying to ace it
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| Pissin on this shitty pavement, beef is snare
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| Cock back scream what, then face it
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| Real niggas make it, while bitch niggas fake it
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| Sippin henicee, on the rocks and never O.J. |
| to chase it
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| My click take niggas back like Jane Close in Acin'
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| Feelin for niggas who stomach hurtin', never ate shit
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| Final Chapter, want ya niggas to sleep
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| Cuz we be comin up this hill, and this hill is steep
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| I spit hard to make it tougher for ya clowns to eat
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| Thugged out, my niggas lay it down in the streets
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| Pound to wheat, from overseas, from L.F.C
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| Home of the legends, plus missions beats
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| For this tale to decrease, y’all all turn sucka
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| We fly O.T., with fire brain in our chucka
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| Yo I was told by 3 wise men, you gotta get dough times ten
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| And when ya mula correct, aiyo the dough straight just
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| Flow down to ya neck
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| Get ya cash up, cuz some time you pass ass up
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| Get ya dough right, I knew you were gonna fuck with a slut
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| My flow is in and out, and out and in
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| No doubt, make ya niggas say ouch again
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| And the shit mine, get my journal’s a spit shine
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| Stay hard, plus a nigga hit hard tard
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| If I ain’t in Iraq, then I’m right in the marge
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| Tao-tao-tao, like the Flipmode Squad
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| Nigga hop my shit, so when you cop my shit
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| You got a shotgun? |
| Nigga gonna cop my shit
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| Yeah my name papi, but I ain’t poppin shit
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| Straight knock you out, like the Rocky shit
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| While ya cornballs nigga, straight coppin shit
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| Chorus: Final Chapter
|
| Is you a real or a fake nigga?
|
| Get caught and run ya track to the jakes niggas
|
| Trying to turn a benjamin into a 8 figga
|
| When shit gets sweet, this click we can taste niggas
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| Embrace niggas
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| To the death, we be livin it up
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| All my niggas who ain’t givin a fuck
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| Cop ya shit and bust
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| Don’t look here, if you hate nigga
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| When shit gets sweet, this click we can taste niggas
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| Embrace niggas
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| It’s been a while comin, fullback endzone with me
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| Times is paper, gotta make moves slowly
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| Things changin, prepare for the occasion
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| School face only, slanted eyes like a Masian
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| You ain’t amazin me, or facin me
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| Give them 2 weeks, I hope fiends are blazin key
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| And when you flash ya cards, you never surprise us
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| Y’all like deetechs, need better disguises
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| Word from the wises, get dough, break bread
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| Catch me with a virgin that strictly give head
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| And when there’s somethin on my mind, then it quickly get said
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| Freestyle, M.O.B., nigga voi p now
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| Thugged voice, first choice, ya clowns is secondary
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| Still full of couple things short like February
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| From Iraq to P.R., the world is ours
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| We are, Final Chapter, thugged out, we’ll see ya |