| Killer kill from the Ville, Killer Mike
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| In the motherfucking building nigga
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| Y’all already know, Killa kill putting it down
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| New South Movement, mo’fucker
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| New South Movement, South Lee Southwest Click
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| That’s what that is pimp
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| Now loving, is the size of my shoe
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| And that’s the new size that’ll hold you, let your shit come through
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| See one deep I’m whooping clicks, gangs
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| With my 50 Cal. |
| click bang, I’m gangsta walking with that trick aim
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| My nuts hang, like D-boys on the corner
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| And I could send a bitch nigga, a Bengal like Ty Warner
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| I’m standing on a soap box, preaching the gospel
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| On how you should move them coke rocks, and protect yo Glocks
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| And turn your projects, into Ft. |
| Knox
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| It just a fo' night, with two 44 Glocks
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| Now rise and shine it’s a kick do', for your pies and pine
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| I’m riding off in the sunset, the horizon’s mine
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| Everybody dies in time, but how will you pass
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| In a million dollar mansion, or dead broke on your ass
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| Think fast, cause your number is coming up
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| And ain’t no second chances, when the killers is running up
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| I step into the club, in a fresh white T
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| Looking for a one night wife, to delight me
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| A lot of dudes claim, to be gangsta like Ice-T
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| When in actuality, they sweeter than ice tea
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| Get your weight up homie, only the strong survive
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| Get off the bus and pay your dues, you don’t belong on this ride
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| I’m a full time playa, all about my hustle
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| Demonstrating my muscle, if I get in a tussle
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| If you got plex, I suggest you keep it hush-hush
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| Cause boys wet up on that water, and you might get bust
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| I got to stay up on my note, so my game is sharper
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| I can’t be wiped out, I’m like a permanent marker
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| Boys mean mugging in the club, repping they hood
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| It’s understood but cross that line, homie it ain’t good
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| It’s survival of the fittest, I’m the last one breathing
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| While you in your bed sleeping, I’m still out here creeping
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| Take your ass to church nigga, if you wanna learn better
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| Join Mase and Bethle-fuck him, I’m trying to get cheddar
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| My stack will clearly show, my talent for moving blow
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| And it’s gangsta music, so fuck the status quote
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| Grown men talking, who let the children in
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| Get the nine to spit it in, leave him smelling like chit-lens
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| I ain’t playing I ain’t joking, I’m rolling loaded and open
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| It’s best you not provoking, this man when he pistol toting
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| The 4-fiftha, will tuck turn toss twist you
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| Split you right down the middle, like a brand new swisha
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| When the bullet hit you nigga, it rip and tear tissue
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| Bullet bang, turn brains into baby batter
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| Turn great matter, into antimatter
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| Fuck your chitter-chatter, who’s good better best badder
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| Let the shotgun splitter splatter, who it hit child or bitch
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| It don’t matter, niggas just handling bis'
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| Primetime guerilla gang, get his what it is
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| Last but not least, it’s H.A. |
| Dub
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| Buckshot slugs, you covered in blood
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| Feel me cuz, or get drug in the mud
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| By these Texas thugs, who really don’t show no love
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| That’s what it is nigga, handle your bis nigga
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| This ain’t your year nigga, I’ll split your wig nigga
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| Take a sqwig nigga, this is the new South
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| We coming hola, so what you talking bout
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| You niggas still learning, we got they heads turning
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| We got the streets burning, this is a street sermon
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| That’s what it is dummy, you niggas chasing honey
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| We out here chasing money, jacked by G and running |