| Pile raps inside my skull cap like a brick stack, the kid is back
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| I told y’all niggas ninety-eight lives that
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| Yo, ninety-nine I piss on rap
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| Two thousand where your pistols at?
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| Thunn, we be the men in black fatigue
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| Thirty-thousand dollar chains that swing
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| Yo catch me in the street, poppin' that bullshit
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| Catch a fat lift, holes all over your shit
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| Bust guns like, nuts all over your bitch
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| Yo you’s a woman, tell me what the fuck you tryin' to do when
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| You’re growlin' all over the tape, you get chewed when
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| I touch that shit, not only that on the concrete
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| We splash more niggas than the wavepool did
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| Check out my new shit, we blood spill, you still ice grill
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| Mad cause your clique’s shit is homo, the Mobb stay real
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| You steady playin' the field
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| Nigga you sideline rhyme, customers complain they can’t feel
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| You cooked up a half-ass meal
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| It’s time for me to catch burn on the wheels of steel
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| My shit fills, the appetite of the populace
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| We could do it via satellites just us
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| And show the world how that ass get bust
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| Ever since a little yuke, I had this lust
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| To pick up the motherfuckin' pen and just rush
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| Like morphine beats, through the wires of the EPS plus
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| You get penalized, for tryin' to rock with the upmost
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| Get branded, for bein weak the most, now be ghost
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| The fuck outta here, with that bullshit you tryin' to share
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| With the planet, you need to be shot rappin'
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| I got sickle cell I feel the pain all year, what’s happenin'
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| Fake thugs wanna front like they contractin'
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| Numbers on my head, thun please, I’m here waitin'
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| You can’t touch me, there’s no fake love amongst me
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| There’s no fake niggas that’s run with me
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| Somebody gave y’all the wrong info, I ain’t get kicko-ed
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| You nympho, put me on to where you breathe at
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| You 'sposed to taught that bitch much better than that
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| I dwell, where the rest of my vets is at
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| From Sumnerville to BX and back
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| To the lab in the dungeons
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| My house of reresentatives stay starvin', beats thumpin'
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| We unholy, 'cause there ain’t a part missin'
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| My commission, sit at the table like the last supper, fucker |