| Ea$y Money, the track matador
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| But I don’t wave capes at bulls
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| To murder you lyrically I am cap-a-ble
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| 'sup hater, I see how your face is screwed
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| How convenient — always been one to play with tools
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| See, I got the hammer, my squad is nuts
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| So you better bolt 'fore we wash a nigga up
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| My dogs I’m in the lab with, makin' wild classics
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| To pile mad chips, paper like a foul carrot
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| And to get it we bang-bang with the toaster
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| Bring ya man with you, aim flame, hit you both up
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| Main aim is to gain fame and get mo' bucks
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| Easy, Chilla, my man Slaine from the Coka
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| Rap dudes ain’t fuckin' with that
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| Make sure we spit that shit till the chips stack quicker
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| Mama you fly but I can’t kick back with ya
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| But you can hold Dick like you kidnapped Richard
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| Ea$y Money Helltown, and you don’t stop
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| Slaine reppin Roslindale, and you don’t quit
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| Chilla Jones Dorchester, and you don’t stop
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| Coke Money Jones, and we’re on our own shit
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| My habits are bad, my intentions are worse
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| They criticize my sentences, try to censor my verse
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| Cause I’m insensitive, they thought I was pensive at first
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| Like I was Asian, but I’m just more expensive to jerk
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| I’m feelin caged in like a lion trapped in a zoo
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| I’m not relyin on what other rappers happen to do
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| I stick both of my fists in glass, fuckin wrap 'em in glue
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| If I have to, leave you bleedin while we’re laughin at you
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| But if there ain’t a lotta violence then I don’t feel at home
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| Makin Money look Ea$y with enough Dope to Chilla Jones
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| The eyes of a hawk, heart of a lion, a killer’s dome
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| So many demons in my past, I ain’t never feel alone
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| I got my mind made up, it’s fightin in the level
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| That I took it since I put it on 'The White Man Is the Devil'
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| What you’re lookin at, you’re starin at a legend, poppy
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| It’s pretty obvious I got the city locked and you could never stop me
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| You are wild, Slaine, nowadays I’m a vowed name
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| I brainstorm, let the cloud rain
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| Ha, we set the standard for lyrical
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| Cause every 16 is plain nuts like planters original
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| Splittin hard, not the one to be pissin off
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| Listen, I got bars on lock like a prison guard
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| Are we feudin with beef, yo?
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| Knock at your door, pop in the four, put two in your peep hole
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| You wanna battle? |
| Stupid, I beast those
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| Now you in front of foul lines like you shootin a free throw
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| East Coast reppin, Beantown violator
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| I’m on point off top like a skyscraper
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| Annihilator, you can try, hater
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| Just push me, the Tec wet pussies like a vibrator
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| Slaine said body it, hit 'em with cocky shit
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| Now watch me spit more punches than a Rocky flick |