| Smif-N-Wessun out of Bucktown startin' mad trouble
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| Play the Hard Rock we break yo' block down ta rubble
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| Perform a construction, like a storm when we rushin
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| Raisin' 'caine, hip shots graze yo' brain
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| It’s rippin down, like thunda, pound
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| Make a brotha wonda now, what otha ill shit lies underground
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| We got more if ya want more, dig it
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| But ya got ta be hardcore ta get wit' it
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| As a youth some called me Tone, some called me Darrell
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| Now they call me Steele cause I’m rough to tha bone marrow
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| You don’t believe me, G, check my apparel
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| Dress code is bold, so feel the cold barrel
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| What up to all my cock strong troops in they boots
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| True to tha game stayin' true to they roots
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| That’s how we choose to remain, cause we just can’t change
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| And we won’t change, still stay the same
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| Timz and hood check, my crew’s out ta catch wreck
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| Run in ya crib and bolt ya doors’ll be ya best bet
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| Ya hear footsteps approach, as I drop the roach
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| Of the smoke ya can’t react because ya throat is being choked
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| Pull yo' biscuit that’s yo ticket to escape
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| I got the trey-deuce my crime partner got the trey-eight
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| I kick it hardcore so these critics try ta ban me
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| But I’m gettin busy like the black guerilla family
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| Got ta meet my man at a quarter ta nine
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| So we could blow this town and leave the corpse behind
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| We ain’t many but we crazy, shady
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| Broke into a crib, what we did
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| Yes we smoked the fat lady
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| Smif-N-Wessun on some reality shit
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| Tie up ya timbs and make sure ya don’t slip, nucca |