| They say I’m crazy, and I don’t give a fuck
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| Goose in the cup, 40 by the nuts
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| Crazy (lay a nigga down like what)
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| Cause they don’t know nothin 'bout me
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| Trice is the truth, puncture your roof
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| If what I enunciate ain’t gettin through you
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| Listen nigga, School Craft raised me
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| Hey bay-bay, you don’t wanna fuckin play with me
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| I got the K covered up in the back
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| Got the pistol on my side nigga, O stay strapped
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| Stacks in the jeans, this is a natural thing
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| I don’t act out a movie, I’m actually the scene
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| I pull up on the scene, nigga holla back
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| With a bad bitch Italian and black
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| They don’t take double takes, they take Kodaks
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| Coast through the club relaxed, where the V.I.P. |
| at
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| Coast under the cub, post underneath the duds
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| Supposed to, I’m a muh’fuckin thug
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| But they say he crazy cause he don’t give a fuck
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| First nigga play me, light his ass up
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| Yeah I’m crazy, the hood made me
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| So O abide by the code on the daily
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| Niggaz get it twisted, bitches get it twisted
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| Cause I live like unrealistically
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| Ay, my nigga Breed in the booth with me
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| Motor City 'til them paul bearers dig me
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| underneath the soil
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| Ain’t no future in your frontin, nigga I’m Detroit loyal
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| Oh so what you know karate? |
| I know crazy
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| Hit you with somethin leave your left side lazy
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| Comin for the whole shebang, yup, believe that
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| Take it like I want it, get behind ya like I need that
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| 'Til I get more «Whassup's"than Martin
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| Get drunk, come through, bust up the party
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| Tonight, very night, Breed and Obie Trice
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| You say our ass crazy, yeah you motherfuckin right
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| Say I need Ritalin, cause when the choppers start riddlin
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| Bodies start droppin, disappearin
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| Tempers start flarin, nigga nuttin up
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| Ain’t no comin back from that bruh
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| Ay, bad days some faggot in a bag
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| Give a fuck what neighborhood you at
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| What Dilla dick you suckin, when the pistols buckin
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| Lord knows someone family’s sufferin
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| And I ain’t the nigga that’ll start the beef
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| I lay back, I ain’t got a problem with G
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| But lick her and niggaz like twelve hits of E
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| Suicidal, somebody on their way to meet Jesus
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| These demons keep chasin me
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| Get away from me, or the AK speaks
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| No wonder why they see him as a freak
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| Say he crazy, in the muh’fuckin street |