| This is how it goes, welcome one and all to the show
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| We’re wired up, fired up, fucking ready to go
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| In the back of the parking lot, outside of the bar
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| Twenty deep, twenty feet from the boulevard
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| Black hoodies, black caps, black label in glasses
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| Previewing the new shit before the masses
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| 'Cause the first thing I need when I’ve got a new beat
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| Is to see how it sounds, echoing off the street
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| I just take it for a spin, pop the CD in
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| Slide it up to ten and get that rear view shaking
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| Then play it again so there’s no mistaking
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| San Andreas the block, get this bitch earthquaking, like oh
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| Oh, ready for it, here we go
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| We got the whole block rocking in stereo
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| We’re taking control, letting everybody know
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| And if you feel it, let me hear everybody go oh
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| You’re not ready
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| I got plenty cuts for twenty months dropped steadily
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| Plenty tracks to empty on your wack pedigree
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| I’m backed heavily, while you’re back-pedalling
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| Forget the chitchat on me, homie kick back
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| I’m on that shit that can get your homie bitch-slapped
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| So zip your lip back, listen and watch
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| We got the whole block rocking off the way the beat knocks
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| You don’t have to warn the people on the corner they know
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| That if you’re standing on that corner then you’re getting that show
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| World premiering, you’re hearing that Machine Shop flow
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| San Andreas the block, get this bitch earthquaking, like oh
|
| Oh, ready for it, here we go
|
| We got the whole block rocking in stereo
|
| We’re taking control, letting everybody know
|
| And if you feel it, let me hear everybody go
|
| Oh, ready for it, here we go
|
| We got the whole block rocking in stereo
|
| We’re taking control, letting everybody know
|
| And if you feel it, let me hear everybody go
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| Oh
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| Oh
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| Oh
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| Oh |