| We cracked the code on the Matrix it’s time to face it we striving with no
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| budget
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| They want our masters, they tryna buy it, they won’t budge us
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| I hit the charts but the major bloggers they won’t cover it
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| Thanks to Rory, Parks and Mal I’m a giant that Joe judges
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| They gon' defy us and so what us
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| But if this carries on we gon' riot for four summers
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| Business is enjoyed when you figure out what your stocks worth
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| Tryna Gina who you are, just eliminate who you not first
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| My life is better but the block’s worse
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| So Rest In Peace Chi, caus seeing you laying up in that box hurts
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| How could we ever think w not cursed
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| Baby mother pregnant during a SWAT searched
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| We just glad that she got birth
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| Speaking of my daughter, the older she gets it’s harder to keep her from the
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| aura
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| It’s deeper than the Torah
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| When I told I think it’s time we split ways
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| Then I told you I grinder just like a sick slave, tryna get these bricks shaves
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| That was two thousand and six way back when Stacks had the two tone boxer with
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| big plates
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| Switch dates
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| Now we in the present
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| I told you your darkest hour is only sixty minutes
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| You thought that I was finished
|
| A span of twenty years been in this business
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| I gave you all the real, that’s because I am the realest
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| It’s been a couple of years but my whole career I been telling you what this
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| game bough
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| Niggas act like it’s fourth and some inches and pull they chains out
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| Hates gon' talk, let me simplify and explain doubt
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| Niggas’ll beg you first then’ll bite yo ass with the same mouth
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| D’Angelo stuck on that stained couch
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| Barksdale cause every bark’s real
|
| Y’all nights drown up in a ‘caine drought
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| I’m like the Irishman before he paint house
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| Get lost like Hoffa
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| The young Sinatra sending shooters to your casa
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| Maneuver like a monster
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| Grand Marnier gouve (?)
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| The grouper with the lobster
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| Little hookah with the vodka
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| Pristine judge of character
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| I see through your grins
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| I got love for a lot of folks I’ll never speak to again
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| Sometimes your friends’ll hate for seeing you win
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| Bullets’ll squeeze in your brim
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| Your soul’ll flutter like a leaf in the wind
|
| When I told I think it’s time we split ways
|
| Then I told you I grinder just like a sick slave, tryna get these bricks shaves
|
| That was two thousand and six way back when Stacks had the two tone boxer with
|
| big plates
|
| Switch dates
|
| Now we in the present
|
| I told you your darkest hour is only sixty minutes
|
| You thought that I was finished
|
| A span of twenty years been in this business
|
| I gave you all the real, that’s because I am the realest |