| «Somebody lift me up, yeah
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| And give me a hannnnnd
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| Give me a ride, I’m sliding off the highway
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| There’s a curve in the road
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| I don’t know when I’m going, crazy»
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| Verbalizin my fiend murder
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| Communicatin while you debatin usin machine squirters
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| Brrap, that trigger’s my tongue, I let you lick it
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| Nigga that, fo'-fifth'll, lift a nigga, whole clique up
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| The Lord call for your soul, it’s time to go pick up
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| Answer the horn, it’s blowin at you, you cold stiff up
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| My heat, heatin my whole hip up, all we do is court strippers
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| Your metal freezin like it’s a morgue zipper
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| I (I) ride around with Preme
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| Not the Preme from Queens, but the Preme from
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| 'Bout to change the game, 'bout to fly the desert, eagle
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| for y’all people like the wing’s the clip, and the barrel’s the beak
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| My perilous fleece, I’ma throw on them diamonds
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| I’m a pharoah deceased, like a spawn was rhymin
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| And, I would advice ya not attempt to
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| New (Temptations), the gun harmonizin
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| Every bullet’s a note
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| I write with a firing pen every time the, trigger pull it’s a «e
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| Inside a poof full of smoke
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| Sniffin lines of that gunpowder I’m hotter than a pair of boots and a coat
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| And a turtleneck
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| The best rapper alive could be the best rapper that died, a murderous
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| If you ain’t get it by now I’m suicidal
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| I’m wild, a nigga better than me is who I ain’t heard of yet
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| So I ain’t murdered yet
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| He ain’t even been born, his momma’s a virgin, she ain’t even furtile yet
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| Prepare to get back — next time you take a shit
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| Stand and turn around and look in the toilet then compare me to THAT
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| Don’t compare me to none of these motherfuckin
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| wannabe hustlers tough until they standin in front of me duckin
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| It’s off with yo' head nigga 'less you one of them Dodgers
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| We sound off as one, we gun harmonize! |