| Put your fist up, swing around left-to-right
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| I ain’t talkin bout a show, this a mothafuckin' fight
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| Fuck yo kicks up, put ya shoe through his eye
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| If the nigga gets up, then you ain’t do it right
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| I rap like a nigga, you rhyme like a bitch
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| Son’s actin up, go find me a switch
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| Got my mind in a ditch, keep ya eye on the kid
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| Five nine, buck fo' five, grimy as shit
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| I’m what’s really hood in Brooklyn, and hella poppin out in Compton
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| Call me FMak, a.k.a. Somebody Stop Him
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| Got security stompin at every show I’m rockin
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| Crowd response is «son, he kilt it» like a Scottsman
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| A force to be beat, can’t be done, knock you off ya feet
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| King of the Hill, you live across the street from Dawson’s Creek
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| So make ya’self at home, Why?, cause you finna drop
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| In a coffin with locks filled with four cinder blocks
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| When my crew’s in the house, we abusin' ya spouse
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| She thought I was Paul Wall, I put my jewels in her mouth
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| Move-em-in, Move-em-out, raw hide mothafucka
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| Quick to the draw, if you ain’t raw, Hide Mothafuckaaaa! |