| Hey yo I’m focused, it’s the locust
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| O. Trice is holdin the soldiers, the prognosis
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| Probably why I rose from zero to hope
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| Cause I was wide eyed and open nosed on my approach (nigga)
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| Hold the toast you provoke (*gun cocks*)
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| 44 Snub hugs my scrotum when I roll, yes I hold my own
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| Swifty think you Deebo’s clone
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| I’m aimin, watch I’m switchin to Damon
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| And Next Friday I can bet you’s a changed man
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| When them thangs in hand, it’s not a game man
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| I ghost ya, I bring ya much closer to Jehovah
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| Definition of a soldier, I told ya
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| I. hold the toast when I approach
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| It’s close at all times by my side in the holster
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| O-ster roast ya, make me blow my composure
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| Pop (*gunshot*) it’s all over, when the fo’fo’blows and goes a … (*gunshot*)
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| When I’m up in the club
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| And these niggaz they wanna act tough
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| 'Til they get plugged
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| Watch them bullets go (*bullet shot*)
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| Now you touched from a slug
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| Huggin the streets like you in love
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| Your heart race like (*flatline*)
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| The ambulance arrive (*police siren*)
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| They rush you to hospital, flyin by my ride
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| Engine like (*engine revs*), homie you just died
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| Your family through cryin, I pulled off a crime
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| Just as quick as …
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| You could lose your face, in a fool’s race
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| I pulled my tool first nigga, you was in second place
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| And second place just means you didn’t react with haste
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| And this differentiates life where murder bein the case
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| And since murder was the case, it just means niggaz erase
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| Another black mother can’t eat the food on her plate
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| Cause she ain’t got the taste of raisin you was a waste
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| Such a short span young man said at your wake
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| First I’m a man, second I’m five eight, with size and weight
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| Won’t give a nigga the upper hand
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| Cause when I pop (*gunshot*), I get a’s up like Barry Sand
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| Sit in the can, you never ran like Barry Sand
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| Obie ain’t playin, Obie got a plan
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| And the plan is NOT to be layin in earth’s land
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| I will POP before the can and earth’s land
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| You get SHOT for playin me less than a man, motherfucker
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| Niggaz get it twisted, liquor make 'em envision
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| that gangsterism is disrespectin a niggaz wishes
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| Which is all that tough talk in front of bitches
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| Yeah you fifteen deep, the Desert E a give ya stitches
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| And I can be all the bitches and hoes you wanna
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| But I warn ya the glock could make it hot as California
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| You be propped on the corner, flesh meetin the coroner
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| O’s and quarantine, cause no holes in me (*slam*), is no holes in me Niggaz take advantage 'til I manage to pull that hammer out
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| They start scatterin, I’m no gangster, I’m a average man
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| but be damned if I let 'em do me savage man
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| Before that I’m strapped and will challenge him
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| Cocked back and that (*gunshot*) gat will damage them
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| It’s not a act, this is fact, this is how I’m programmed
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| This is me, what I’m about, this who I am motherfucker |