| My click is in it til it’s over, never sober
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| Bustin over, lay in the lane with the 'caine in the Rover
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| Pray to Jehovah, for the nigga with the Ruger
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| The young Don, the Heron mover
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| You know my hustle, I bring the fo' pound to the tussle
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| Motherfuck your pit with no muzzle
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| So chill cuzo, let me blow for my niggas
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| Runnin round, get down like motherfuckin gorillas
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| Shorty bop the wolop, in the spot with the dollop
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| Pot full of acid, I got the game mastered
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| Move dimes, hit twenties addicted to gettin money
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| It could be a hundred degrees and never look sunny
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| Black I’m tryin to live, somethin got to give
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| But everyday’s the same old, runnin from po-po
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| Mom think I’m loco, cause I sell crack and puff cocoa
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| Yo, it’s the style see it’s still the same
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| And when worse comes to worse, I steal the 'ciane
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| Papi know my face, so he don’t expect it
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| Runnin from the gutter so he gots to accept it
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| Stripped his ass naked, then I put a slug in him
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| He just another motherfucker, ain’t no love in him
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| I put a bug in him, never sleep on one who never slept
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| I take my last breath every time I hit the meth
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| It’s the D to the E, M to the O N
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| Blowin, steady playin shotgun, throwin
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| Don’t you see the shorty with the baseball cap
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| Don’t make me flip motherfucker with this baseball bat
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| Best to brace yo' gat, 'fore I brace mine, cause I lace nine
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| From yo' dome to yo' motherfuckin spine
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| I be, that nigga that yo' niggas can’t fuck wit
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| That nigga that yo' bitches wanna creep wit
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| That nigga that you can’t get along wit
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| Playa hate but you wanna do a song wit
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| That nigga that you see in the videos
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| That nigga with the jewels and the jiggy hoes
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| That nigga that’ll die for his main man
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| That nigga with the gettin money gameplan
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| Haven’t you heard that Bad Boys move in silence yet?
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| When you increase the peace, the mo' wild it get
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| I’m only sizin you niggas from the waist up
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| And I ain’t, wettin no parts you can’t touch with makeup
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| Mr. Jacob without the Ladder
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| It don’t matter clap your wake up and do a shakeup
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| Nobody badder, since the, baby finksta
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| I was in the playpen wai-tin for kids to enter
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| Shit I even blitz the rich to get chips
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| Housekeeper disguised with the nine bubble grip
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| Extra clip in the vacumn if I slip
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| Room service ring the alarm and get the bomb
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| Blown to Hong Kong wide been long gone
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| Plus I got the power to ramshack, you dig that?
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| Worldwide while you simply thug where you live at
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| You don’t really wanna get involved, with the L-O-X car-tellers, Goodfellas,
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| that’s who we are
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| You can’t outsell us, it ain’t shit you could tell us
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| Jealous dog, cause we spread like relish
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| Bad Boys, and we all eat together
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| When it go down, then we draw heat together
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| Since I made the connection with the big man
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| I done got big plans, to be a little nigga in the big Land
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| Ghetto star, presidential all gift wrapped
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| And what you call weight? |
| I know cats who sniff that
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| Enjoy life, what are you sayin?
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| If the DA ain’t got a nigga payin, papi got him weighin
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| Anything to do with money you can count J in
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| Next time we bring it to these faggots we ain’t playin
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| Cream of the crop, and we ain’t never gon' stop
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| Hittin you in your head with that butter from The Lox
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| — fades out |