| Time is gettin' crazy, people clockin' out
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| They’re robbin' all the cribs on a death wish route
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| Breakin' into cars trying to steal their system
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| 20 pounds on the bar, betcha can’t lift 'em
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| Ya throw two punches, now you got no wind
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| Hittin' mega pipes, gettin' super stupid thin
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| Smokin' all the squares, crying all the tears
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| Workin' for ya boy, ya came short and full of swears
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| Ya couldn’t make the money cause ya smoked up the product
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| Walkin' round the town, skeptalepsy illaroduct
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| Can’t be trusted cause you’re living in the past
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| Ya should have kept yo ass away from that blast
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| Oh please, oh please, oh please, just gimme just one more hit
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| I got a homeboy who is out on the block
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| He sells more crack than they sell fish at the dock
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| He runs to every car, thinkin' he’s a star
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| He gets his product snatched by some people in a car
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| The car pulls off, as he hangs onto the side
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| Of the car that is in motion, guess his product took a ride
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| He tried to sell a dime for a thirty dollar bill
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| Fake gold plate on the back, no frill
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| Fake Hawaiian suit, scratched up knees
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| In his fridgerator, bread, water, cheese
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| An antique fork, how long will it last?
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| We’ll see in twelve minutes when he wants that blast
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| Oh please, oh please, oh please, just gimme just one more hit |