| 25 to life, aiyo Scram Jones, I’m hearing about you kid
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| What up, let’s pop these niggas heads the fuck off, man
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| It’s on still, fuck that, let’s do it!
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| Let the lead jet, mad chunks of ice on his headset
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| Pull out them cannons, and let my nigga bed check
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| Always at war, with good liquor, say something hood rich
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| Bitch, I’m guarded by them good ninjas
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| Fresh out them caves of Europe, more slave bengals
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| Flooded like the stone mizurics
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| So when you see us, nigga wouldn’t knee us
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| The world’s most powerful rap duos, run through like zebra’s
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| Big v’s pull up, melt ya skull, grab your whore
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| We’re in your ear, yellin' 'war' when we pull up
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| Eight eight killas, sorta like the bullocks
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| The wolf child, lift niggas faster than sit-ups
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| So many stick-money gettas, payin' fly Hitlers
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| This is all made from the pictures
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| Automatic exchanges, bad boom killas and rangers
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| Violate me, you’ll die in the rain, bitch
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «Watch me -- shit ain’t a game, recognize the G»
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «Off seasons, I keeps it gully»
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «Cowards in the face, the bullets is burning, actual factual»
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «It's going down like that»
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| When I write, floods occuring, arks get built
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| Prophets kneel the crosses, and presidents killed
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| Churches, synagogues, even mosses filled
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| Popes and bishops bow down, on one knee they kneel
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| Streets is talking, e pills shipped in a coffin
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| Egyptian jewelry, made the dead rise of the tombs
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| Aborted babies, re-appeared back in the womb
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| Used to fuck with all types of thugs, all types of drugs
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| Strapped up, macked up, with all types of slugs
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| Militant Che Guerrera, three quarter chinchilla
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| Ask around about the God, homey say I’m the realest
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| 2−5, we gon' ride til the government kill us
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| Banana clip in the mack, where niggas act gorilla
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| The truth is, I’m on some more new and improved shit
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| Spitting the revolution, allow me to introduce it
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| I’m legendary, skills in the art of war vary
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| I feel I’m needed, like the Knicks need Marbury
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| When I squeeze have the d’s go down like the Ferry
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| Holding my hand, talk to the dead, in cemetaries
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| That’s word to the pain and the blood stain of a dope fiend vein
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| Leave our mark on the planet, you know we came
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| Slugs flying, we riding, I ain’t doing no bids
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| Fight a lion with a pocket knife, to feed my kids…
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «Watch me -- shit ain’t a game, recognize the G»
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «Off seasons, I keeps it gully»
|
| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «Cowards in the face, the bullets is burning, actual factual»
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| «You got guns, got guns too»
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| «It's going down like that» |