| Outlaw, Outlaw
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| Bring your mother fucking Jersey Mob
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| In the name of Makaveli The Don, the killa motherfuckin Kadafi
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| Everybody wanna know how I live my life (pucka)
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| Where’s my balls? |
| (pucka)
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| Where’s my ice?
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| No matter now I answer then, feel my stripes
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| You keep poppin shit, I’ll pin my knights *dying*
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| At your grow dega
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| Smokin on your drow Flavor
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| Spit some pimp shit
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| Then dip with your old neighbor (come on)
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| And if you really, feel some type of way about it
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| Run up in your hood, then I’ll shoot my fuckin way about it
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| This Jersey Mob, Outlaw, Akwylah
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| To my crew selling coke clinkin' cock dollars
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| We in the same game, eat the pain, maintain
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| All the snitches wanna see us in chain gangs
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| The hate for traitors, that’s all a cop thought of
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| We live stool pigeons smokin in salt water *pigeon*
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| Only my lord and our crew know what happened to him
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| His family prayin 'cause one day they might back into him (uh-huh, uh-huh)
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| With nothin to loose, I walk through clutchin my tools
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| Ice-grill make you wanna say what’s fuckin with Smooth (yo, what’s fuckin
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| with that nigga?)
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| I’m sick of these crews, actin like they’ve been payin dues
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| I put the heat to em, tell them niggaz kick off they shoes
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| What would you do in the position when it’s us against you?
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| That Teflon mother fucker, can your head take two?
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| Shut the fuck up 'fore your luck’s up
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| What you gonna do when your shit’s up
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| Besides get dissed on nigga, and pistol-whipped up
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| Tied up, mouth taped up, layed out, and hit up
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| Leave you in pray, gotta give you a napkin to wipe that shit up
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| After the fact, holdin in time, shit up for lit up
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| High drilly and shit yeah nigga you know the mix-up
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| We that squad for real, Jersey Mob for real
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| It be kill or be killed, so we drawin that steel
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| I’m lovin the rush, Essex county doublin us, fuckin with us (yeah, yeah,
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| yeah)
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| We ownin enough, them rollers is bust
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| (Murder — repeated in background of chorus)
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| Murder made easy for dummies
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| Before you pull the trigger
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| Hit his pockets, take all his money
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| First you gotta be smart
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| Check his race and his bag
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| To see if he’s strapped
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| And hit him once in the face
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| And that’s that
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| Well where you at then?
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| When I needed you the most
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| I hit rock bottom
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| I couldn’t see that we was close
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| Yo box, watch em
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| Now they all Champaign
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| Ballin campaign
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| Yeah that nigga fall in the rain
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| Dirty ya joints poppin like you greasy burger enflamed
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| Every verse I drop’s another small piece of the pain
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| Shit’ll never be the same
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| After we got burned
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| Niggaz is burnt out
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| And yo there’s nowhere to turn
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| Like court adjourned
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| Without a quarter to burn
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| Short of return
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| To the same game in order to earn
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| Y’all niggaz don’t learn
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| I ain’t concerned by far
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| Spit six bars like gem-star, stitches, and scars
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| Niggaz dry snitchin, yo they intuition bizarre
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| Picture me starved
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| Without a partner, pitchin is hard
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| Listen, my jaw, to find the right position tomorrow
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| Is mission imposs?
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| I be yellin really my eyes
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| Niggaz kill me when they nod like they really alive
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| You ain’t shit without your homeboys
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| Y’all ain’t no grown boys
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| I feel it all and no voice
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| Now you stuck with no choice
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| Get on the ground, give up your property
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| It’s like monopoly
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| With Jersey Mob this time, they’re ain’t a mother fucker stoppin me
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| That’s why I pop three in my throat
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| Wait for my shit to drop and it’s murder she wrote
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| Forgot to pull it close
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| And I got enough to go around for everybody challengin
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| Guns, never silence, I’m still wildin like Allen
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| And Mister Jeru, well it’s mob. |
| all that deep shit
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| You can keep it |