| Y’all don’t want, beef
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| No y’all don’t want, that
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| Get caught up in these streets
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| Get shot up by them heats
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| Word to my cousin, the truth and no lie
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| Me and my dawg was in his brand new Land, puffin on lye
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| Tameka came by, glossy-eyed as she cried
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| Lil' Jay got sprayed with a chrome four-five
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| That’s my motherfuckin man, get in the Land
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| Head to the rest, grab vests, switch whips to the Caravan
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| I heard an ambulance right up the block
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| Plus more shots, the shit’s gettin hot, pull up and park
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| By the back, pass the gat, hit the lights and lay back
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| Hold up, now roll up, yo where them niggas at?
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| I know one of them cats from the projects with Jay
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| The first nigga move I’mma pull this gun, spray
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| No de-lay, we stay night to fuckin dawn
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| It’s on, my head spinnin, feelin my cheeks get warm
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| Tears drip as I stepped out the whip
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| Slipped a clip, had to get hit, uh-uh that’s that bullshit
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| Yo I can’t believe my man since 3rd grade got sprayed
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| Bullet laced as he laid, chokin up blood with no aid
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| Made money for the purpose of his daughter
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| Victim of an unmerciful slaughter — explain harder
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| Or don’t bother, I’mma heat yo' ass like lava
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| Identified was that tinted gray Chevy Impala
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| Fleein the scene, as the back tires screamed
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| Now for them my man, ruined his whole dream
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| Of playin ball pro, bitch that’s how it go
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| You let me know, I’ll hit your whole fuckin team with the metal
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| Mental struggle got my hand under the bubble
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| Tryin to blow steam and leave the scene blood puddles
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| Snakes (whattup nigga?) These niggas ain’t explainin
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| (Well fuck it then) It’s time for some gestratin
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| Hit him in the worthless shell he came in
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| Murder is a sin, but it’s worse him dyin on revenge
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| And I ain’t havin it
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| I ain’t havin it, reached in the bubble and grabbed it
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| Automatic cocked back and squeezed through his Polo fabric
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| Nigga duckin and runnin, irrationally gunnin
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| Thinkin to myself, do I gotta hit someone
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| Then I heard shots from a back route
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| Fired back out, got shot, dropped and blacked out
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| Put in a clap out, didn’t map out or act out the plans
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| Now I’m consciously layin while bullets is sprayin the Caravan
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| We can’t lose, I hear shotguns then 22's
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| Left arm booze, or blood soaked through my Adidas shoes
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| Heavy breathin, a lot of bleedin
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| Bitches screamin, put over on my good shoulder, started squeezin
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| Out the back window, she gave the wrong info
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| Suddenly crashed into a Pinto
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| Hopped out, flew through the back yard, word to God
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| It’s on and I felt the gat slip through my palm
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| Kept runnin, hopped the fence, hopin that I didn’t leave prints
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| Spotted a black Ac' parked with dark tints
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| Broke the passenger’s side, hotwired the wide and slide
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| Another unsolved homicide |