| Gonna throw a lil’somethin like this
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| Pacewon
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| Mista Meth
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| Young Zee
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| Funk Doctah
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| Come on Yo, yo, yo I like to smoke I like to gamble
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| Slap that face I’m like Anthony Saprano
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| Lets here it for the mob boss
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| Bird catch it highed up til his eyes crossed
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| Fat belly, tall boy loungin with his socks off
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| No tan, toe jam like Roseanne
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| Got guns so big I bust with both hands
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| Pull 9 M-M's and tecs that don’t jam
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| Mad family and friends in the drug program
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| I go *raaaaarr raaaaarr* like I had cereberal palsy
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| We ain’t got no time to be playin with y’all see
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| Shoalin, Dirty Jers’what y’all aint heard?
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| Fuckin ya birds, pluckin ya nerves, puffin ya herb
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| Slap ya C.E.O. |
| off his podeum
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| Hand in my coat like Napoleon
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| Wrapped around a hot nickelodeon
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| Oh seven one three oh four thats the code we in School of hard knocks here we go again
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Aiyyo Hot Nicks you got me noddin of the doses
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| While the Outs burn bush like God talkin to Moses
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| They mad I push the F1 with three front seats
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| Rock fatter chains than slave workers had on they feet
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| Smoke blunts til my breath smell, hop on my Nextel
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| Chick from West L bang her head against the bed rail
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| Ya’ll betta leave 'fore Zee get evil
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| I’ll tell you a secret, I see dead people
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| Aiyyo, aiyyo Pace
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| The Doc sports timbs with no lace
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| I come in her mouth and it look like colgate
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| I’m a gorilla, chewin on bananas
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| Psycho Im the one that blew my head in? |
| scanners?
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| BRICKS, lyrics and guns gotta stay smokin
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| Even Live to L.A. don’t leave the gate open
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| I carry two shotties and I’ma squeeze both’um
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| And when I’m done me and ya bitch elopin
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| Hook:
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| Y’all know, this how its suppose to be And Y’all know
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| Think of me 'fore you smoke them trees
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| And Y’all know
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| Wack raps make me choke emcees
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| Aiyyo people, yo who the fuck we be?
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| Who you be?
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| Young Zee from the M-P-C
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| Who you be?
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| Funk Doc from the P-P-P
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| Who you be?
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| Pacewon from the O-U-T
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| Who you be?
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| Mista Meth, Wu-Tang Killer Bee
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| Aiyyo presto outta box
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| Tap you white folks outta locks
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| Take the shotguns out the grandfather clocks
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| Planets that I rock you can’t astronaut
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| My house was on Afrika Bambattas block
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| Aiyyo my candy is prepared for manhandlin
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| The click from jammin avalanched the grand canyon
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| Thats how big it is, how large it is Pitbull bite ??? |
| through it ???
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| Yeah
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| Tryin to scare Zee and Funk Doc y’all playin
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| If this Scary Movie, you the fag like Shawn Wayans
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| I pop a lot, I pop shit I pop guns
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| I pop cherries nigga my pops on the run
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| You pop shit ya crew betta run
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| I pop all these shells out and shot pellet guns
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| Yeah rock box I loot Elle and run
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| Rock the Bells mix it with Duke Ellington
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| Yo They call me Mista Tecal ya stallion
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| Hard headed dick gotta pussy fetish
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| Get’cha cosmetic, Meth at it call a medic
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| And while we said it These niggas wanna catch amnesia and like forget it The Outsidaz and y’all can call me Bony Boy
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| Or Rockwilder when we Face Off like Castor Troy
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| Creep with me as I roll through the stack
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| Maniac, lunatic and my whole click packed
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| Aiyyo Doc
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| I be spaced like Star Wars
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| Hardcore nigga don’t lock my car doors
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| I rock shells toes backspin on cardboard
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| Gazelle type frames, wave caps, and four-fours
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| Graffiti to place leave my tag Pace Blunta
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| The barrel of my glock stay hot like late summer
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| You freckle motherfuckas need shade to lay under
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| JAKE HUNTER, look but don’t bite I take cover
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| Hook x2 |