| Bar Exam 3, tramp
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| Yeah! |
| Whoooooo!
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| Fuck is wrong with you? |
| Go and inform your crew
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| That I can end your career in less than a song or two
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| I’m a tyrant, I’m like an irate Somalian pirate
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| You’re as threatenin' as Miley Cyrus with the heine virus
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| Dead a verse, I got more bars than Leavenworth
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| The present president backwards, call me «Tnediserp»
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| I shoot niggas with knives, stab niggas with guns
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| Kiss hands and shake babies, I make the medic hurt
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| Fuck a producer too, them faggots is fuckboys
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| I should rap over the Brinks truck backin' up noise
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| The city’s in an uproar over the hustl-or
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| I got it on lock like up north but much more
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| These rap niggas sayin' they rollin' on them wheels
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| But the only rollin' they doin' is rollin' on the pill
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| They high, speakin' of rollin', we a roll
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| You will see us get paper before you see us fold
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| Hip hop nigga, the opposite of neo-soul
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| The only thing sing is the pistol when I’m takin' Ne-Yo's soul
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| You aspire to get a chain that’s glistenin'
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| I aspire to get a chain of businesses
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| I retire niggas, gettin' at me ain’t what the business is
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| I kill the kitten if he witnesses
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| I make it look easy, before I self destruct
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| I’ma get some hoes pregnant like 50 and Lil Weezy
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| I don’t give a fuck about shit
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| Got nothin' to say to y’all but «suck dick», I fuck yo' bitch
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| And send her back to you, pussy like she been in labor dawg
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| And when I’m done with her she gon' need a cable all
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| My dream mistress is a bitch like Nicki Minaj
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| And if the ass ain’t real then I’m with the façade
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| The pistol, the pen, drinkin' with me, pick your demise
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| The silencers screwed on now the clips in disguise
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| Now who the fuck goin' harder than Nickel
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| I take a shit on any nigga, no regard for tissue
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| I go hard; |
| so much harder than everybody
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| I John Doe tag the toe of every body
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| We go hard
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| Oh yeah eh eh, we go hard
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| That I, I, I, we go hard
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| Oh yeeeeah-ay ay, we go hard
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| That I, I, I, we go hard
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| Oh yeeeeah-ay ay, we go hard
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| Go hard, so hard
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| So hard, so hard, whoa-oh (Let it breathe)
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| The best nigga in the game, yeah, you know this
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| The game never be the same, yeah, you know this
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| (Kid Vishis!) Ignite violence, make him swallow shells
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| That’ll clog his windpipe, make the doctor do the Heimlich
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| Fightin' for the loot like a riot; |
| this is Pay-Per-View
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| Rap niggas don’t get it unless they buyin' this
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| Blame it on the drugs like Steve-O, you still a Jackass
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| I spit dope, my fans got a crack habit
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| If you can beat me on beats congrats
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| The sore loser when I snatch him out the booth then I beat his ass
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| What you call rappin', I call trash
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| Every punch you call strong, I call jabs, so listen
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| I’m sicker than a stripper, if you tip her, give her fifties and twenties
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| Hit the lights she realize it’s counterfeit money
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| My niggas get large cash
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| Push the rock good as Bobby Hurley 'fore the car crash
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| I get star cash, tour cash, more cash
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| Don’t wanna pay me, I’mma take it out of your ass
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| Do what you want fam, I say fam cause I fry a man
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| Feelin' angry man, I’ll flight 'em in
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| Honestly godly, what fool wanna battle me?
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| I use the Earth as a cue and shoot pool with the galaxy
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| Few could challenge me, who do catastrophe
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| Three cash, guns point the guard, I’m Steve Nash
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| You a rap group, I’ll slap through
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| The only time you see a gun is when mine is pointin' at you
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| Skip the church and the reverend I’mma put 'em on a 747
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| And the destination’s Heaven
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| For example, break into my notebook
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| And find more shit than the cops friskin' Rambo
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| Make 'em fade to black, fit 'em for a blindfold
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| Told you I’m a Dibo pitbull, die slow
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| I’ll really hit your crib with the semi
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| Break a nigga baby back and ribs, I call my bullets Chili’s |