| Yo, yo, yo
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| This your man Royce Da 5'9″
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| This your dude Crooked I
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| Man, Jump off Joe Beezy
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| It’s Joell Ortiz
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| Ya’ll ready, ya’ll ready, y’all ready know, Slaughterhouse
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| Little niggas get your weight up fuck y’all, pay up
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| My bars just as slick as my dick and both stay up
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| Nicer than me, say what? |
| Wait up, straight up
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| I finish niggas right off the bat like a layup
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| I seen a lot of come, I seen a lot of go
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| But y’all know where I’m from, B-R double O
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| You know the rest pimpin', yeah, I was bred different
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| Here come pops with the NY bop, you know, the leg limpin'
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| My ice mug frozen till it’s stiff
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| Grimy nigga, might wanna hold onto your bitch
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| I got a way with women, I faithfully play with women
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| Let 'em suck on this bottle and pray that I throw a baby in 'em
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| I might just throw 'em a gold fronts
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| Pour up a cup of E &J and light up a dro blunt
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| I was never soft, never saw me flinchin' when they lettin' off
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| Never had to retaliate cause I set it off
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| Ya’ll know my name, bitch, never change up my language
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| I’m just a rich nigga from a city that’s bankrupt
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| First we take oath
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| Then I’m pulling turquoise strings in my Lebron corks In Turks and Caicos
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| I came from wicked chair fame wearin' short sets
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| I learned that money can’t buy happiness
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| But I decided I’d rather do all my cryin' in the Corvette
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| Make a dollar, buy a suit
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| Have a child, and have 'em follow suit
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| Wavin' that weatherchange things
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| Make the winter fall, coming through with everything to lose
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| Taking everything from you know
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| Let him finish his fall in his draws
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| And pray that he land on that minute hand in my Hublot
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| I’m about that Art Of War gospel
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| That Basquiat Picasso drawing a roscoe
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| Using the blood of a usual thug who was told die slow
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| Your money on me, bet it all, you know I’mma set it off
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| Let’s skip the small talk and get right to the wealth
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| Truth is I give a fuck, but it’s right to myself
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| Fuck fame, keep the shit I write to myself
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| If what I do is therapeutic, man, the slightest shit helps
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| Made angel dust my freshman year
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| Gave it a try, cool, little did I knew
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| Had the wrong meaning of high school
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| Teachers called him a sociopath and a liar
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| Fuck them, only went to class for the cyphers
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| Now I’m gettin' bills for
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| The same thinking they tried to prescribe pills for
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| They said I needed a wrench, I’m a loose screw
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| Vital, suicidal, said I would kill mi amour
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| Wasn’t speakin' in French, said I’d let it off
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| Never know who or what you might get
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| Main reason they never want me to set it off
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| You now dealing with four niggas that’s never off
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| All bets off, so nah, you won’t be better off
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| Jewish tats arm on my arm like a Semitic boss
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| Egyptian art hanging, uh, that’s my Kemetic cross
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| Slaughterhouse set it off
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| Even got bitches wavin' our flag, Betsy Ross
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| Old school Chevy, the head is off
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| Decapitated Impala
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| Heavy lack from the weight of the llama
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| Still bear arms like a shaven koala
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| How you thinkin' like a faded neurology student
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| Is prudent when chasin' a dollar
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| So never mind, a clever rhyme
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| I’d rather find a better grind, forever times
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| Sittin' behind me because I’m ahead of mine
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| In this era I’m livin' outside of the paradigm
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| I’m comin' outside with a pair of dimes
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| Sharon and Caroline
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| Share a line then they share a 9 inch, never mind
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| I probably shouldn’t even keep going
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| Cause these rappers keep hoein' with their teeth showing
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| I set it off |