| Yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Old school Pt.2, feel it
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| The realest, who be the realest?
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| That’s how we do it, man
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| We run through it, nigga
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| I’m the number one insane rapper mix CD stabba'
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| Your album was doo-doo, I threw it out the passenger
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| The number one crapta, the 8, the 12, the 16, 22's and 23's
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| Sometimes I could blow a little steam
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| I got a lot on my chest but I keep it quiet
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| So I don’t blow the steam
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| Get 'em every time, my military bars
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| Will leave a permanent mark on ya brain
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| The comeback kid, to see you get your ass whooped
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| Mad witnesses, these niggas mad shook
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| I don’t have a clue, why he chose to speak on my name
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| When you know I’m gon' shoot
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| You know I’m gon' crack yo' face
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| When you see me in the place I’m a dangerous person
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| Behind the rope, poppin' off with the girl
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| You got the ratchet in the car
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| I got the ratchet on my person
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| 3 stacks, 3 stacks, 3 stacks
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| And a pocket full of hacks
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| It don’t stop, it don’t stop, it don’t stop
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| When it’s on it go pop
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| Yo, it been a long time since I sold a dime on a dime
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| This shit too hot, whoa
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| It’s poppin' uptown when I used to see Flaco
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| Now back to the block hollerin' 'I got those'
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| I got those in every state
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| Like the same amount of snitches that you got in your face
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| I’m a make my cracks bigger and take over the whole hood
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| Shit changed, dunn the ladies say that I’m no good
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| I smoke wood, to get high till we pass out
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| Cash over bitches, that’s how we ride out |