| Yeah
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| Yea yea,
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| Gold datins
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| Low pros
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| I’m talkin' 16 switches on the low low
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| Oh, there I go
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| Yeah I’m a G
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| How many licks do it take to hit the back buckle only three
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| Pablo, Esko go on my metro
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| Got the complexion now my connection’s Petro
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| And if he ever out I hear wed-o
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| Cause he got the wet-o and the heavy metal
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| Chitty bang bang where they gangbang
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| When they slang caine
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| Where the tray swang
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| In the k-flang
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| That’s why I’m runnin shit
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| One in the tip
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| Gun in the hip
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| Any one of these niggas trip
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| I go harder than a pain
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| Do em like Shaq do guards in a pain
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| When that Thompson go off, they know it’s beef
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| When their arms blow off to the middle of the street
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| You see the fresh tats
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| You see the big chain
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| Get in the game stop watchin from the side man
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| We in the fast lane
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| Never slowin down
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| We got ahead trump, so you never gainin ground
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| You can talk your shit
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| You can blog your shit
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| But stay out the booth, let the real mothafuckas spit
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| And I’ma say this one more time
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| Next talkin that I do is through the barrel of my nine
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| Bumpin draggin
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| Levi’s saggin
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| Calico’s spit flames like a fire-breathin dragon
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| Get off the wagon
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| Fuck all the naggin
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| I’m from southeast San Diego where my niggas flame flaggin
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| Cowards talk slick
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| With nouns and verbs
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| Yeah they never bust a uie and bang they datas on the curb
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| Smoke a little pot
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| Drink a lot of patron
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| And I’m comfortable in any city’s gangsta zone
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| My rep is full blown you 36 in a BG
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| I’m a boy in the hood like my name was EZ
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| Got plugs on drugs or whatever you like
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| Got green, got pills, got soft, got white
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| And I can make a deal seem so appealin,
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| Get you high enough make you wanna dance on the ceilin
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| But if you snitch on me, nigga you know it’s beef,
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| When your arms and legs blowed off in the middle of the street
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| The other day
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| The homie took mine from the waist
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| Up in the wrong place standin with a wife beater and a .38
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| With a perm lookin like Samuel L. and Jackie Brown
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| Wavin a pistol around
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| «Everybody get the fuck down!»
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| But don’t be speakin about this G shit if you ain’t with it nigga
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| Walkin the street without packin your heat homie you needs to quit it nigga
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| Shit I was a little nigga watchin big homies pull the triggas with tha
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| And to get sick on these mothafuckas off the rooftop I watched and hit ya
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| Everybody’s off that gangbang swang
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| Then hit the corner nigga gotta fill up on the marijuana nigga
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| Two in doin too many those muchos on the streets takin that wakin that’s
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| happenin D
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| Then blame it on the rapper with the guts and crack in the back of the seats
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| Yeah right never ran from a fight
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| Hit niggas with the left and right
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| Niggas pull guns on the ones they want to get slumped with the nighty-night
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| Now Compton go off, then they know it’s beef
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| When they arms blow off to the middle of the street yeah |