| Yeah son
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| There’s mad kids up here gettin CREAM for the 9−6
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| (True) Yeah and I been doin this shit for a long time
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| Y’know? |
| Shootin game bombs the mind
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| (Aight) And this is a year when mad caps get peeled
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| So I’ma spark this line, kick the real
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| (Bang em out!)
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| With all this chaos in the realms of the street
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| Ya local street thug gots ta make ends meet (True)
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| The average Joe is far too slow for this ghetto pro
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| You better know when I hit the streets I like to glow
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| I like to glisten and at the same time stay low
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| listen, motherfuck the fame, I’m persuin the dope
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| My steelo is abolic to a kilo
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| Cash is poppin, coke is cokin, fiends is coppin
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| Ain’t that some shit, a player that’s use to livin rich
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| is now a stick-up kid caught up in the ditch
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| In '94, Giuliani kicked down the door
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| In '95, niggas flipped to stay alive
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| Peelin caps while I laugh in the stash, four and a half
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| Remy and a glass, sparked the boom then I blast
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| They wanna confine me, sneak up from behind me Bust a cap in my back and put me where they can’t find me They hate to see a young player pay (Naw, they don’t wanna see that Sean) |
| They’d rather see him spray
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| But I’m like Vinny, a terminator, squeeze and let off
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| Usin verbs and nouns like rounds to blow ya head off
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| Hit nuff spots, heat nuff Glocks
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| If that’s what it stops like Columbian blow crops
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| I’m out get the CREAM and ain’t no doubt in my mind
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| Fuck this roach shit, I’m hit, I get down for mine
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| I get down for mine who be gettin down for theirs
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| If we gettin money put ya hands in the air
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| I get down for mine who be gettin down for theirs
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| On the regular, shakin victims with no fear
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| I hear you wanna be a player, alright son place your bets
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| Let’s play a game of real nigga roulette
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| Witness a DOA as I spray the melee
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| Content and punctuation is compared to AK
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| You want a daily overdose from pure funk
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| I’m buckin off like Tommy 'gain but calm as a Buddhist monk
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| Decapitatin rappers in my trunk (what?)
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| I’m sick, puffin skunk, bouncin wit my click, poppin mega junk
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| I’m gettin dank white clouds be zig-zaggin
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| What’s this talk about flippin ki’s, c’mon you’re nickel-baggin!
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| I’m blastin off wigs, ??? |
| doubters believe it you see |
| I was packin heaters when jokers was bangin cheerleaders
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| Ain’t nothin changed, it’s still the same in the rap game
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| I’m known for bangin rookies out the frame
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| Y’all done forgot who was the pimp from the start
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| Sippin vintage wine eatin a’la carte
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| I’m phenomenal from the abdominal
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| Far from comical, lyrics is stickin the brains like barnicle
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| Never sleep, I’m bringin the drama to the streets with techniques
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| and rollin in fleet
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| Ain’t nothin sweet about the streets so I’m poetically ill
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| I’m pure like coka and lyrics shine like Fiscelle
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| I got to bring it at’cha throat and you ain’t showin no signs
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| K-Def let em know I get down for mine
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| I get down for mine (x4)
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| I get down for mine who be gettin down for theirs
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| On the regular, shakin victims with no fears |