| Yo, for the one-nine-nine-nine shit’s goin' change
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| Now it’s us in the Range, God’s giving us brains
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| Play the game, put my heart into it, you stupid?
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| I’m a gunner, whenever I got the rock I’ll shoot it
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| The undisputed champion on the M-I-see
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| Been Wu-Tang before it became a production company
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| Stay fresh like Doug, I run with the thugs
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| That’ll cut your throat and sell your blood
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| Fifty/fifty love around the border
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| Should be bidding five to fifteen
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| On the Strength for the way I manslaughter
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| Rock your girl’s boat like the Titanic
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| Man, I got more numbers than the Ninex, plus the Bell Atlantic
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| More hoes than forty-deuce
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| More clothes than twenty cleptos could boost
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| I’m not having it
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| I bring it to your label, producer and your management
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| Man, I’m like the Feds, I bring down your establishment
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| Under the Rico, I purchased my 3rd quarterly from Bob Cito
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| Got your block locked like the Dred, Mike Z and Chino
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| You know (What? What?)
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| Look me eye-to-eye and see what you find
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| A crime nigga, nine spitter, mind digga, refined
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| Power impact, cracking your spine, mankind
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| Blow off the surface like landmines in my pastime
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| I saw it all, had plenty broads
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| Cut your wig short like Demi Moore
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| Ghost, vanished, most motherfuckers don’t know I’m half spanish
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| Hazardous lyrical tactics, pinned to the mattress like canvas
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| Get your ass kicked for talking backwards
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| Puffin Backwoods, walking through the back of the hood
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| No protection, Stapleton section
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| Corrupt life, T.M.F. |
| arch style, we rush mic’s
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| Disarmed for that gold-piece charm
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| Red alert, we all alarmed, ready for combat
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| No contact, counting backwards ten-to-one
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| Now let me launch that, no way you can catch my format
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| I’m like the Gingerbread Man, moving on land
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| Catch me if you can, I move faster than the average man
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| You only got one life to live
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| So all of my children, it’s better to give than receive
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| Life is short, Days of Our Lives seem to speed
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| Still waiting for the day when Clinton legalize weed
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| It’s like gun play when my darts spray
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| Leave you scarred today, mental washed away
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| I shoot like Hardaway, your body parts decay
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| Slow-lay, too busy lusting the Rol-ay, platinum face
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| I snatch you over-arms, I take you out of space
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| Take you into my orbit, Terrorist gone corporate
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| Chopping tracks into sawdust, son, so you could snort it
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| In the conference room, Terrorist Hymn coming soon
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| Album cover pitch-black like the sky, without the moon
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| To illuminate, in my dome-piece there lies a metal plate
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| Titanium, harder than a lock in your gate
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| Burglarize your enterprise and have fun with your mate
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| Cause I’m not nasty, when doing my dirt, won’t see ya masta me
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| Silent Weapons is a classic like Freddy Bassey
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| What a word pro, electro, grenade logo
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| Forever show how I firmly handle the phono
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| Bitches lust me, my plans of wetting the seeds in the mo-mo
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| Terrorist relating to Shy, mi vida loco (I feel the same way)
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| Yo, yo, yo, yo
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| Eh yo, treasury, stacking this paper for Longevity
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| The money first, put it in work, that be my pedigree
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| Let’s take it to higher degree
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| Sit back and visualize so our eyes could see
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| Black God, we living hard
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| Mugs get scarred, thugs get barred
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| Treated like slaves in the yard
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| Playing the field, most niggas tell and squeal
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| That’s why I move for 'self, only me and my steel
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| Cause shit is real and leary niggas will rat you out
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| Get under pressure by the jakes when they smack 'em out
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| Gat in they mouth, for talking, you sleep-walking
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| Can’t play the street often, become a victim for extortion
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| For your fortune, your bank rose
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| Stank hoes, you think I ain’t cold?
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| Run up in your crib, take everything, even the sink goes
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| You sweat like a pink rose
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| Can you smell it, when you soft like velvet?
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| Catch one up in your helmet, get dealt wit
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| On the quick-fast, take you on a great adventure like Six Flags
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| Spent every day of my life just trying to get cash
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| So when my shit blasts
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| Duck behind buildings for shelter, or you’ll get hit fast
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| Catch whiplash, fucking wit Trife, you must’ve skipped class
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| Your bitch-ass didn’t take notes, infra-red scope beaming
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| I’m tired of dreaming, I want to hit the big screen and
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| But keep an open eye for them cats who stay scheming |