| I’ll take you out like a mason cut ya head off like jason
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| Like you’re free-basing, talking about that ghost you chasing
|
| (Have you seen the skinny little boy that chases the white ghost at night?
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| Have you seen the little boy? |
| Face puffed up, tracks in his arm,
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| and his mind blown. |
| His mama’s somewhere drinking and talking about survival.
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| Pop’s in jail or downtown at the Y… the little boy chases white ghost with
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| his friends and they get HIGH.)
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| We’re the birth of a new breed, we got you open
|
| Trying to figure what we choking
|
| You just a token
|
| Trying to do what we do, we livin like «what»
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| Some niggas can’t even keep they mouth off our nuts
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| You got guts if you challenging this
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| Leave you with your wrists slit cuz you ain’t damaging this
|
| Quasimoto crew
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| We make you want to press rewind
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| Hit you with the discipline 99
|
| I hear brothas wanna battle Mr. Herbie, where they at?
|
| Rollin up in they Cadillac, rollin' up a sack
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| Brothas perpetrating hard finding it hard to rap
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| I come with that hard to rap that freezes their cardiac
|
| Imagine that
|
| Looking for lot is what they haven’t had
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| Ask him was a lot in that
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| Does he have his lamp on that wack habitat
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| I’ll change
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| Burn em, they rappin' pad
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| Kicking them more fresh rhymes than brothas kick hacky-sacks
|
| (Have you seen two little boys run past here? With a lady’s purse?
|
| They stole the black woman’s purse the other day, yesterday, today, tomorrow
|
| Face puffed up, tracks on their arms, eyes popping out of their skulls,
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| and their minds blown
|
| And they get HIGH
|
| They get HIGH
|
| Talking tripping, talking about flying talking about getting high
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| Getting high…) |