| I be poppin' this game with the most infamous
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| Riders who be frontin' shit niggas known for killin' shit
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| Out on the run with your gun
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| Mr. Smith 'n Wesson makin' major connection
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| Stressin' but you pack protection
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| Dear Lord I’m prayin'
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| In whatever direction they out to get me
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| Stop breakin' laws for the cause haters out to kill me
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| Look what I’m facin' retaliation who’s the man
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| Takin' out your anger but there’s victim of circumstancers
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| Like little kids and brothas 'n sistas 'n cuzzins
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| But you don’t give a fuck cause you keep blowin 'em up
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| Spreadin 'n buckin 'em
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| Now what’s your contribution life in an institution
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| Them guns you’re usin' in this game got us brothas losin' everythang
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| And it’s lookin' bad for the home team
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| Sometimes a gang’ll have you caught up wit them tripple beams
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| No, never be a punk I’m coughin' off this chronic smoke
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| I know you ain’t no joke
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| You’s a bitch when you smoke your folks
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| Brothas are dyin' and bullets are flyin'
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| And mommas are cryin'
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| Muthafucka put them guns down
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| Babies are dyin' and mommas are cryin'
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| Because the bullets keep flyin'
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| Muthafucka lay dem guns down (lay dem guns down)
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| They say it takes a man to walk away but fuck that
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| So you’s a man because you pack a .9 millami to Gat
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| That shit is old who you wanna impress all your friends
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| Cock the hammer back stuck in the pen
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| That’s what they want playa
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| Can’t you see it’s clear they
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| Shippin' them guns just like that coke so we can spray
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| It takes a fool to learn the devil loves nobody
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| Plus the trigga’s got no heart, man fuck a autopsy
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| We ripped off I’m pissed off my people’s fallin' off
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| Tryin' to get a reputation find him with his head off in a ditch
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| So ain’t that 'bout a bitch found out he was a snitch
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| So they kicked to the norch and never did a liquor time
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| That’s why I spit these rhymes so hopefully
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| You can see the game is quick to hypnotise your mind
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| And if you let it you’ll gettin' caught up
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| Thought he had your back but when the drama took place
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| Them fools was up now picture that
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| Who can you trust when they buckin' up 'n down your block
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| Cause 911 is just a joke full of crooked cops
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| Nightstalkers creepin' thru your back
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| but it be for real, man
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| That’s just what them guns for
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| Cause it ain’t no tellin'
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| Gots to always keep escape routes
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| Convicts and felons ain’t the only fools
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| Takin 'em out for good punk I wish you would
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| I hope I’m understood because them funerals batch and batch
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| This ain’t no good
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| Can’t even stroll on the sunday with my kids and mother
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| I’m gettin' sick and tired
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| I’ll always have a break for cover
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| With all this drama 'n hustlin'
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| A playa’s tryin' to accomplish
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| And that’s we all know another day is never promised
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| It’s fault across the world not just up in California
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| You doin' dirt you best believe the dirt gon creep up on ya
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| Batterram here comes the F.B.I. |
| and D. A
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| When they come to buck you down it’s hard to live a playa’s way
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| (Outro):
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| Bob Dole and Bill Clinton
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| Y’all need to holla at playa, dough
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| And all you TRU playas out there, man
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| Put them guns down
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| And that’s real |