| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Uh, uh, uh
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| Yeah…
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| Baby mama let’s roll, here we go, Cheerio, cereal
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| Killa with the flow and the blow and the dro'
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| And the gun go ring, hit 'em all in a row
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| AK-47, .40-Glock, .44, let 'em know from the door
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| How it go, it’s not a joke, there’s gon' be a homicide
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| I’m a ride, I’m a rep me a nigga up in the box
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| And send 'em to his folks, his bloods, his kin
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| The drama it don’t end, bust a gun
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| Bust a nigga’s face open with the hand
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| Tell 'em go tell a friend, tell a cop, tell the FEDS
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| I don’t give a mothafuck, you niggas in the Ps
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| I’m a let the world see you, you’re a bitch, you’re a snitch
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| I’m a Mobb Deep gangsta, Infamous soldier
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| If you got a cold heart then my shit just froze over
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| Range Rover, Chevy Suburban, the bullet proof trim
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| The windows on the crib, bullet proof them
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| You’re fucking with a Dirty New Yorker
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| Quens in this bitch fall back or get roped up
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| You’re fucking with a Dirty New Yorker
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| Quens mothafucka, move and get smoked up
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| Ay' baby mama let’s slide on the floor
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| I’m a pro with the flow
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| I can go on forever tell me when to stop yo
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| My first album Head Nigga in Charge it went gold
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| With my next shit I’m just trying to seel a lil mo'
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| I won’t be mad if it’s less, I’m still filthy rich
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| We going on a permanent tour and never coming back
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| I’m a vet not a pet, you gon' see when I flip
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| Niggas trip fall on their face and bust their own shit
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| Come for me you gon' run up to a wall of cement
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| Certain niggas not to be touched and I’m one of 'em
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| Pop to bub me, crack open the Goose and the Gin
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| You gon' get real fucked up in memory of them
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| I’m a cop some more ice, houses and whips
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| Why they mad? |
| 'Cause they can’t spend money like this
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| 180 on the wrist, 190 on the six-speed
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| Porsche with the turbo and shatter proof tenth |