| Hold up, wait a fucking second—let me puff up on a spliff
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| Thunder striking down, watch 'em bleed just as the bullets hit
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| See me makin' plays in the cut, Motorola flip
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| Open up the pit and break a motherfuckin' jaw, bitch
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| Twelve gauge shotty, grey decapitate
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| I’m that motherfucker you don’t want to play or hate
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| I don’t lock you with the choppa, bitch, I’ll bust yo' grape
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| Pussyboy, you best be playin', make sure that you don’t make mistakes
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| Grey*59, let it rain blood, it’s a grey flood
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| Open up my mouth, and you can see the gold slugs
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| Fuck 12, I ain’t postin' bail, let me rot in Hell
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| I can shake the Earth and be the reason that the ocean swells
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| Let it be known, you can’t fuck with us
|
| Pull up with the squad and turn you into dust
|
| You a pussy motherfucker, someone not to trust
|
| Bitch, I’ll pull up with a nina, watch a motherfucker bust
|
| (Huh, huh, huh)
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| Bitch, I’m on the run from all the cops so I just lay low
|
| Trigger finger itchin' and I do it for the peso
|
| Drop it off and make it quick when I come through and say so
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| Stinging like a bumblebee and leave you with a halo
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| Knockin' off yo block set up shop make yo body flop
|
| Inside of the bucket with the chop scopin' out the job
|
| Tearing up the club bring the ruckus boy this shit don’t stop
|
| Gripping on the Glock, pickin' locks, watch a pussy drop
|
| In the head, The Walking Dead
|
| Fuck all the feds, feed 'em lead
|
| Paint your ass red, leave me to death
|
| I’ll watch you dread, take your last breath
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| Under my shed is where you rest
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| One to the chest, I’m not to test
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| Bitch, take caution, it’s the walking corpse straight out the coffin
|
| And we mobbin', loadin' up the Glock, proceed to robbin'
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| And you dodgin', but these bullets coming, ain’t no stoppin'
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| You flodgin' punk-ass motherfucker, meet the rocket |