| Shit this shit right here… is for the thugs in the street
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| Do yall here me?
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| Shit and this shit right here… will get you mugged in the street
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| Beanie Segal hit hard and I’ll wire ya jaw
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| Trademark niggas eyes give them perminant scars
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| Twist backwards never catch me rollin' cigars
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| Only cock and blow dro out of perservative jars
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| On the block serving like I never heard of the law
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| Cops hit the spot fuck it, mad bro to bar
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| Fuck crack, flip powder, I aint takin' a loss
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| Plus if I get snatched, its less time for the song
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| I was been known to stroll the block, hold the glock
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| Blow dro, pick up doe, reload the spot
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| I’m the shit with crushed ice and some arm and hammer
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| I’m the reason why smokers steal car antenna’s
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| I get bricks, so you know I make big nicks
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| The size of Chiclets, that make you pricks sick
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| While you try to profit, i just flip quick
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| Ya niggas know my flow be sick, my doe be quick
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| Now when you wake up
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| I’m wiping the cold out your eys with the barrel of the gun
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| Holding your son, smoking Branson
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| Blowing smoke in your face, I want the ransom and some
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| His shit’ll get the opposite of handsome
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| I mean I got to come clean
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| I’ve done bagged up and served every fiend MC in the feds magazine
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| I’m what y’all haven’t seen
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| I swallow kerosene and piss out gassoline
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| Strike a match and burn the fucking scene
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| I’m no joker — I could blow you in the smoke
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| And make your man a second hand smoker.
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| I’m so vulgar — I’m sendin' niggas straight back to their maker
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| Broke, with a PlayStation for a CD player, see me player?
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| I dont even play that shit |