| Crack that pineapple open
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| Vision of break faces, gettin' money lay in the boats
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| Got big rifles, play the hood, ride Benz Cycles
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| Y’all mens are psycho, killah hill 'ciples
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| More fly generics, money make moves, forget it
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| We got this locked since nineteen-seven
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| So many rods and weapons, ain’t no more reppins
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| Take the shit back, faggot, we hate that
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| Meet the real, we lock the real, me lock the steel
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| Pop off, pull out, drop them bills
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| I run with all real killas, all for realer
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| Nikes on, awesome gorillas
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| Want more then kill 'em, front war, reveal 'em
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| I want him stretched out, listen, he lost the buildin'
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| All fly gangstas, more bankers, hundred wit' us
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| We ex-dust niggas, don’t even touch my drink
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| Fuck around, get shanked, stabbed, shot and broke
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| Ya' yolked and he blast-es through you in the faint
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| All my niggas get paint, yo what’s my name?
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| Lexus diamond, ice water inc
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| Uh, yeah, once again in the motherfuckin' place
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| Fix yo' motherfuckin' face, nigga
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| Yeah, you know how we gets down
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| Me and this mixo, we so, we so tight
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| Lex diamond sound, and uh
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| I bees the high chief, Jamel Areif
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| Straight from East Medina
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| And uh yo yeah, yeah, huh
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| They started jammin' in the park, just after dark
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| Two turntables and their DJ scratchin'
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| Words seemed to have an attraction when they rhymin'
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| Hip hop caused the guns to start sparkin'
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| Temperature risin'
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| Drape a nigga up with the ratchet, less talkin'
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| Caught him on the 'nard, bomb like a G hard
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| Explosion rocks the promenade, I’m God
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| And he show and provin', knowledge how he movin'
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| Smift as the wisdom, move from my gate in a drunken state
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| I wrote this degree, adjust ya eyes in the light so you could see
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| Never fall victim, dictate the fate leave the bake for the snake
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| If he take than I take his head without question
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| In the one to fourteen check the justice lesson, now uh
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| Uh it’s the pineapple daquiri fuckin' up ya mindstate
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| Ya heard? |
| Spread the motherfuckin' word, yo
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| I’m from where it’s real, niggas peal ya' orange
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| We want enough bricks that we could build apartments
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| I, general in the field of marksmen
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| The bad boys wit' me ain’t Will or Martin
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| Feel what I’m droppin', I spit the ill doctrine
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| Spot him deep in the killah hill poppin'
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| Two feet dug in the dirt, up in the skirt
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| Spectator on the sideline lovin' the work
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| And my team ain’t ya' average, cream we handle it
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| Fiends seekin' packages, beans and banana clips
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| Festo, if you wit' me, let’s go, the nymphos love me, X O, X O
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| Boy listen hard, think twice before you get involved
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| We hold the weight like cons in the prison yard
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| They call the riot squad, we live and in charge
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| Y’all non-believers get reminded with scars
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| It’s the pineapple, rebel I natural
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| Fine wine hundred proof, spittin' mine at you, nigga |