| Man, I gotta stop smoking this shit
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| Cause that shit gon straight
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| I can’t stop, and I won’t stop, ha ha ha ha
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| Damn, yeah, staright blueberries
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| This microphones is mines, I seen you scopin
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| I’m hopin that you step so I can bust your chest open
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| This is how I am, this is my mentally
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| Don’t try to battle me, I cause fatalities
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| And this is how it is when the microphone put to torture
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| MC’s done tried to step but I caught ya
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| I’m like a sorcerer, magical with rhymes
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| I’m one of a kind, my lines too inclined for your mind
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| And that’s the way it is, you can’t see me so don’t even try
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| I wonder why MC’s done tried to step in and they died
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| Now I be that MC, you can’t see that
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| Lyricist that breaks MC’s backs
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| Matter of a fact that ain’t the way you should do it
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| This is how it is in showbiz
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| I know this MC can’t even get close
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| Cause I rock shit from the west to the east coast
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| Why they wanna fuck with my smoke
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| Why they wanna fuck with my smoke
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| Kurupt tell me, why they wanna fuck
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| Now I’m rollin in the fast lane tryin to find the right lane
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| I’m spittin game like big pimpin is my name
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| I need a flame, so I can get this shit lit
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| Its snoop dogg, I’m bout to drop me a hit
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| I got my nigga named kingpin to the right
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| And we plan on smoking all night
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| And when we through my nigga named priest gon increase the peace
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| Blaze up another sack, get your kakies creased
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| Cause its on and poppin, ain’t no stopping
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| Snoop is on the mic I’m lyrically hoppin
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| Poppin just like a motherfuckin strap
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| Don’t talk shit cause your best to watch your back
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| Because umm, why you sleepin we creepin
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| And um, we got a fat sack of blueberries, its scary
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| My brother jerry told me one day
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| He said snoop when you reach the top will you please blaze a J
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| For me and my homie J d-o-g, who’s in the penitentiary but see
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| Its still cool to me cause Ima swing it on bring it on
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| Got another fat sack so blaze up the ozone
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| It on like that we ain’t no joke
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| So motherfuckin back off or jack off for my smoke, smoke, smoke
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| Why they wanna fuck with my smoke
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| Somebody tell me Why they wanna fuck with my smoke
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| They say no to dope, and ugh to drugs
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| But motherfuck that I’m a motherfuckin thug nigga
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| Spots stay open, under water hydro
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| Orange fire and chronic out the side door
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| Dogg soprano, sugar buddha the pimp
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| Been had ho’s, been havin chips
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| Spit out gangsta shit like haa chooo
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| In a ride, ahh with teezy with red haa shoes
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| Tha relatives, how gangsta is that
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| Half my life blowin do do wit a strap in my lap
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| Just goin out the ills and its hurtin niggas
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| Kickin niggas door down and searchin niggas
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| In the fence for a week and its perkin niggas
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| You niggas ain’t some gangstaz you some working niggas
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| Ain’t no mo silent niggas
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| My prediction, 2004 theres gon be hoes and snitchin niggas
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| Or peepin niggas out the barrel of a 40
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| Hood on hood crime, homies killing homies
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| ?? |
| to harlem, chips flippin we ballin
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| Ain’t nuttin better than being young gangsta and ballin
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| Blowed outta mind, probably be the high some more
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| Master money marna for the law
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| I’m from the salty 619, home of the corca
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| Mystica holders with pistolas and purple morta
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| Americas finest find me north of tha border
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| Please, no seeds, break bread cost an awful lot
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| Chay flag on a borca, slide in croca’s
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| Splitters or the swishers, twisters, hundred sport cars
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| This for big tony, homey in the yinta
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| Inglewood to tango, relativez the bleeka
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| Why they wanna fuck with my smoke
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| Somebody tell me Why they wanna fuck with my smoke
|
| They say no to dope, and ugh to drugs
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| But motherfuck that I’m a motherfuckin thug nigga |