| Doody, we love you
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| We just wanna keep makin' you proud
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| My life is trapped in these lines, that’s why I’m packin' these nines
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| I gotta rap, I ain’t dyin', that’s in the back of my mind
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| Got a strap made of iron, can’t relax on this grind
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| Bendin' over backwards for these slackers 'til I’m snappin' my spine
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| Natural high, gotta focus, on these bogus poachers
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| Lookin' over my shoulder, Proof get it poppin' like soda, hold up
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| We nothin' but soldiers, slow up, this gun is loaded, roll up
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| They beef and we leavin' ‘em coked up
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| If Slim say it I spray it, if he will it I kill it
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| We Kilpatrick and Ilitch of Detroit, y’all can feel it
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| Real as this gun on my waistline, at war we don’t waste time
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| he can’t take a punch and 50 can take nine
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| We got school crap here at the 7, 8, and Dexter
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| I’m up in Hollis spendin' dollars, ain’t feelin' no pressure
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| Yes sir, your texture is bitch, betcha you flinch
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| When Proof shoot up that coup and wet your whole clique |