| The kids from the hood is more dangerous
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| Everybody vest up, all the shot callers with aim, stick
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| The three pound, automatic is nasty, raspberry color
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| My shit bloody, with mud on my New Balance
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| Goodness gracious, more lazers, watch my family
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| Had these niggas, these niggas got more Rae shit
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| Three sixty weight, put somethin' in the air
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| He didn’t die, but he copped the hearing aid, son
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| New shit, New Balance click, true blue sixes burst
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| The nurses in the joint, who school ninja’s
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| The next paragraph might excite you, enlighten you
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| To get up, get hype a little, bust rifles, do him
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| I wrote it like that, to rock wigs, ox' kids
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| Boxes, cops is chasin' niggas to cribs
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| Vision the next verse is classy, ask me
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| How these young niggas get money, the tongue speaks so raspy, yo
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| Yo, ever had a fight with death?
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| Ever recognized you slept
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| Threw ya man out there and left
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| Ya’ll niggas ain’t never been 'built for' it
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| It’s a shame, some niggas live
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| Then fucking get killed for it |