| Once upon a time, not long ago
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| When gangstas rocked waves sold dope and sniffed lo'
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| There was a young G by the name of Shyne Poe
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| Puttin' it down, cuttin' it up and cookin' it now
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| It’s been a lotta dick ridin' for lack of a betta words
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| Speculations on the guns I hold underneath my furs
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| Similarities in my voice nigga check the words
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| I’m in for winter to doe’s that pinch merds from the cur
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| Dodgin' and dippin' the narcs
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| It’s the young Frank Matthews the rap version
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| Touch my trap on my smack the gats burstin'
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| That’s certain leave ya face and ya chest and ya back jerkin'
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| Uh--y'all got me fucked up like
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| My desert eagle and my sick doom bust right
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| Like my guns is racin', muthafucka don’t you know I
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| Make ya heart stop and ya body start shakin'
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| Now you know the bottom line of this rhyme crime
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| 25 to life plus 9
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| Whatcha gon' do when shit hit the fed
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| Take it like a man or snitch like a bitch
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| Whatcha gon' do when shit hit the fan
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| Pray to God, go hard or lay up in the morgue
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| Evil grin, dead eyes, walkin wit a bock, monster
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| Best way to describe my posture
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| In this world of sin I’m as wicked as they come
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| Moonlightin' as a rapper get this ticket and I’m done
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| Ain’t enough money here I ratha be in the tropics
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| Wit Corsicans where narcotics is the only topic
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| Persian rocks and things the man that made of snow
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| Tiger par
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| And every other form of raw
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| Since a team been handlin, nigga been scramblin'
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| Bettin' on money in Vegas gamblin'
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| Desert in the abdomen, pissy drunk stylin', staggerin'
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| More than you can imaginin
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| Uh--thoughts randomin, runnin through my mind
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| Like who’s the best MC’s — Biggie, Jay-Z, and Shyne
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| Demented as a young’n, Alpo 2nd comin'
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| Evil thoughts runnin' through my cerebellum
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| Shyne Poe what the fuck you gon' tell 'em?
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| All you niggas that wanna be fly my gun shots’ll propell 'em
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| Leavin' somewhere smellin', repellin'
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| Closed caskets for you fuckin' bastards c’mon
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| Only the strong survive, weak niggas bleed
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| And get found, wit they fuckin' face down
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| Numb from the waist down
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| I din been to hell and back
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| Twice and still in crack
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| Stare death in the eyes and never blink
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| Headshots rip through my mink
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| Went to war wit the realist killas
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| Killed friends over jealousy and envy
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| My heart’s empty
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| Behind the wheel of my Bentley
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| Coke-d up feelin invincible
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| Bout to take over the world I can’t be stopped
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| Not the feds or the fuckin' cops
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| Not even 17 shots
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| Can put a end to this terror
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| I’mma live forever, cause gangstas don’t break
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| We just get plastic surgery and relocate
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| To anotha state
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| Or island, smilin, money pilin, wildin
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| Yo Puff over done them fuckin violins
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| Uh this shit is bigger than me though ask Oliver North
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| Kill you then use your corpse, to transport horse
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| Leave ya brains hangin' from ya fuckin' car window
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| Any nigga snitch and givin' info
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| Since my motha stomach coke and liquor
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| Was the mixture
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| Betta be prepared when we hit ya
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| — repeat to fade |