| I’m back at the crib on my Chi-town shit
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| All walks of life in the same room chillin
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| Kick it with the new school learned how to spit from the OG’s you could
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| probably hear it in the twist
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| Thats an ode to the old school
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| Open these doors and your ears never old news
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| Midwest State of mind nobody owes you, don’t let it control you stand on your
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| own two
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| Now we the center of the scene
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| Louder than a bomb and we working as a team
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| Do it for the spitters and the hitters with a dream
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| Take it to the top with a full head a steam
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| Rush
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| So turn the bass kick up and bump and let the rhythm hit off the trunk
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| To make you homie kick up and jump
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| Light up the blunt to celebrate the shit that we on
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| We off the richter this Chi-Town shit
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| The City that works go hard for it
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| All sides of the Windy on the scene gonna mix while the murder mayor making
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| extra change off a lick
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| I used to kick it at the Tip
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| If I liked baseball probably rock a sox fitted
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| Shoutout to Carlos, Hyphon and Ship
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| House, trap, drill, dub all up in the whip
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| So let me take you on a trip
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| A north pole bomber ima put you on a lick
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| A polar vortex couldn’t cool my click
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| But these city slickers icy you could fuck around and slip
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| To all the homies with a gift, never give it up holler at me for a lift
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| And if you ever get on, put it back into the City where you were born
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| (Chicago Style, ProbCause, let’s get it)
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| Who, think they wanna come at my crew
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| Motherfucker tell me what you wanna do
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| I’ll pack in my boo
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| Sittin' on my lap is my boo
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| Talk shit and I’ma (?)
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| And I might run through
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| Any bitch that get up in a lack
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| In my flow I go ratta-tat-tat
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| If I don’t like the way you act
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| Bust up (?) scattered haters
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| And so I can go and hit it from the back
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| Then I, let alone niggas that fuckin' with me
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| Flowin' as if I’m bustin' a semi
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| Gimme a Probable Cause I’ma kill 'em
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| And still I’ma let 'em know if you want me come and get me
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| Because it give me a (rush)
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| Killin' em off the (?) give the original
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| And flip it like a brick
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| I murder 'em all 'cause I don’t like the way they spit
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| Okay I’m reloadin', bitch take six
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| And I’m takin' motherfuckers back to the basics
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| Standing on a stage goin' apeshit
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| Cooler when I’m smoking on my vape stick
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| Forever I’ma be up in the Matrix
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| Snapback not fittin'
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| Fuck with a lot of the bones that we visit
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| And we get a lot of applause and we feel it
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| I’m fuckin' with Probable Cause and we get it
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| Twista
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| We off the richter this Chi-Town shit
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| The City that works go hard for it
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| Ghost of Capone in the booth where I spit
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| Nothin more corrupt than our city politics, yeah
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| That’s shouts to the boss
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| Grass ain’t greener gotta cut that loss
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| Counter with a park tryina up that cost
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| Shouts to the writers in the howard yards
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| Put your left foot in front of your right foot and walk with me
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| Through the city of Chi, where the vultures be
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| In the windy, breezy, easy does it cousin
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| Dont act up in public gonna get called up out
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| Understand what its all about
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| Tell GCI to bump this loud
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| Watch how I make my city proud |