| If you scared, play the sidewalk
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| Wise guy, get the cheddar, then I slide off
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| Hustler, get the pies off
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| Hit it with the remix, then I sell it for five more
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| Let it off like July 4th
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| No game, all facts
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| Show respect like DOOM, spell my name in all caps
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| Yankee ballcap
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| Swear to God, if I ever go broke, pull a toaster, get you all jacked, nigga
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| Get the money first, the hoes’ll follow
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| You ass-backwards chasin' whores if the pocket of your jeans hollow
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| How you profit sniffin' all the product up your nostril?
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| The blind leadin' the lost, he can’t guide you
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| This a page out the dope mover’s novel
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| Eatin' food at LAVO
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| My life illegal, mamba with diablo
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| Two-steppin' to my heartbeat
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| We takin' risks for chips, keep the chrome weapon under the car seat
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| Like Rodney, motherfuck the sarge tryna charge me
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| We move incogni' like the mob, fillin' cigars with parsley
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| My broad bad and bossy, highly intelligent
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| When your bitch a rider, better cherish it, your vibe irrelevant
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| Rebels showin' reverence to the rhetoric
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| Overcame a deficit, was medicine peddlin'
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| The reverend told me never let the devil in
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| We on the road to perdition and the new plug was heaven-sent
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| Learned from experience, I had no OGs
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| Gotta get a plate like Raekwon rockin' a Snow Beach
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| Watch your friends, every homie ain’t your homie
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| Just get your dough and keep it on the low-key, for real
|
| Learned from experience, I had no OGs
|
| Gotta get a plate like Raekwon rockin' a Snow Beach
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| Watch your friends, every homie ain’t your homie
|
| Just get your dough and keep it on the low-key
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| Ayy, yo, no record contract
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| Just a bunch of customers and plugs in my contacts, tryna palm stacks
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| Survival’s only meant for the fittest when firearms clap
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| No air combat, your own man’ll sell your moms crack
|
| For the love of evil roots
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| Might say fuck it if it’s feasible
|
| We love fleeing, European vehicles
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| Eyes blinded by so many lies, can’t see the truth
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| Lost niggas can’t teach the youth, we tryna reach the roof
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| No ceilings
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| React off of logic, not feelings
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| You failed to profit, ain’t the topic of your dealings
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| Salute the villians hundred-dollar billin'
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| In the lobby of your building, fuck squales, free all those in prison
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| Stuck in the walls of the project halls where the coke smell still lingers
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| External blingers is all we can be
|
| 'Cause on the inside, we’ve been givin' nothin' to shine on
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| And a gig is harder to get than coke, so niggas get they grind on
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| 'Cause the TV tells us, «Aim high, nigga, make all goals lateral»
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| But that takes paper that we don’t have, so niggas put they souls up as
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| collateral now
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| Some niggas reclaim 'em, some blame 'em, make an excuse to sell 'em
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| But when a nigga goes from not doin' to doin', what can you tell 'em?
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| Not to be a nigga? |
| Shit, I gots to be a nigga, that’s how I pay the bills
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| And I’ma do that whether I got to sling this coke or exploit these rhyme skills
|
| See, America makes you an opportunist
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| And at the same time, they institutionalize you
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| So the fact that niggas get these big record deals, big money, and then go to
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| jail shouldn’t surprise you
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| That’s what lies do |