| Shootout in Stechman’s, fire in the city
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| (One of Rick shots hit Missy)
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| The reason why he did it, his tank
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| (Crib got raided and lost)
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| Fifty in gear (ten in silverware) another sixty
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| Just got divorced, Stephanie left him for a ball player
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| Took the kids and moved to Georgia
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| (Should I be as a man-thinker, for every action) There’s a re-action
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| Seeing his case, he started spazzing
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| Gamma len in my only Clark, green and yellow God-God
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| (Size nine Magic, show face, fucking with stars)
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| Craig Mack blowout, braided (You got the new shit son?)
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| Bet he find a way
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| (Timberland mineral was rusted, man made corruption, taylor made producton)
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| He had a seed in a Wally jumper, Ronny Bump nephew
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| Butt ass, balled up in a corner in a comforter
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| Paulette was his main wiz, she guzzled 99 bananas
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| Squeezing niggas dicks
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| (Light skin Lil' Kim, Chanel grim) One nigga hitting that
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| (This the shit that rich niggas dreamt
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| Rick brother Pazone’ll be home, estimate 30 days, brolic arm) Fresh out the cage
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| {Do the story seem intriging? |
| When P come home
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| Will he have all these niggas mouths bleeding?}
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| The young black, travel to mix, we open eyes on a disc
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| Try to resist, reviving the rich
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| Airbrush money when we walk, most highly paid Cheeba hawk
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| Checking how he walk, tell a story lord
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| (Ghostface Killah)
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| Went down like Wednesday, Lounge gave a party at the way
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| Niggas in the back watching, everything butter scotch
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| Kelly ass, bet if they dead it, it’s watch
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| (Moving with the New Hampshire niggas) Ride them, catering
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| (Sleeping with them)
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| (Guess who appeared out the blue? Stark Drizzling)
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| Stood Pazone, laying in the Ac' with two women, how his whip look?
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| (The shit look dressy) Bend up vest piece (you know how his vest be)
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| Lavender bird, two inch beak, parakeet
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| Name Unique, who knew the 1 to the 40 in a week
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| 12 o’clock on the diz-nock, we went to check the moon out
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| Took his hat off, spiral (Used to be my idol)
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| (Lip to his eyeball)
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| Playing a Bob mood, just answer out his pocket
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| (Like he bought his rings from Liberace)
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| Had his parrot with him, Unique, you see these niggas fronting in here?
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| (Yo P, they pussy, with one gun in here, the music stop)
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| Shit jumped off by the bathroom
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| (P jumped up, grabbed his ratchet, felt sorry for him
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| First shot was ill, clapped his parrot)
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| Blew him off son shoulder, so many feathers had the club coughing
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| (He wigged out, crying, spit out
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| He’s living like Dead Presidents, real life, he’s letting it out)
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| It was a shotty that murdered pop
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| Guess who did it? |