| Nigga nigga I’ma rida
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| Ride with G’s
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| And ship keys over seas by the three’s
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| Keep an eye on my enemies
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| Snoop and Silkk
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| In da back of the Lac
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| With that AK
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| In da blue tint, with a infer-red
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| Mother fucker gonna die tonight
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| That’s why I smoke weed, get high tonight
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| Cuz I’ma No Limit soldier
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| With TRU datted in blood
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| I went to jail for years, for movin, burnin da drugs
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| Murda murda, kill kill
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| If you put me in danger
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| I aint trippin noo
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| No limit niggaz no strangers
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| I’ma tank representer till im history
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| Making playa hatas into a mother fucking memory
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| So throw’em up if you a soldier
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| And Snoop Dogg pass tha mother fucking dolja
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| I know you mother fucking feel me C-murder aint gonna die, till a bitch nigga kill me Kill-kill-kill
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| Murda-murda-murda
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| Ain’t nut’in personal tru
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| See it’s all about respect
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| Kill-kill-kill
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| Murda-murda-murda
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| Im never got slippin
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| Keep my heat on the dash
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| Now, how many niggaz you know that can fuck around
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| And die and come back
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| They get hooked up with the number one rap label
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| And rap, like that
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| Shit I can’t be duplicated
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| But I’m highly playa hated
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| And I been reinstated
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| And I thank god that I finally made it Fated many niggas, just to get one back
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| Remember im that young nigga
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| That put gangsta rap on the map
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| Never craps, only five duices
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| Mix that moet, white star, with them orange juices
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| I hang out with real niggas
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| Like Silkk and C-Murder
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| TRU niggas, do niggas
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| Like you niggas
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| Ghetto ass, lower class
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| Never hesitate to blast
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| And im so serious about my hustlin
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| Gots to have my cash
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| Can you imagin if I was broke
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| Shit I wouldn’t be bustin no raps
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| Id have my strap, running up in your door
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| Takin all your dough and your gold and your cars
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| Cuz big snoop Dogg, Aint no mother fucking rap star
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| See ima gangsta (gangsta) and you a notch (you a notch)
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| And you a sucka (bitch ass nigga), and I rock
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| Im draped in my army fatigue
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| Blowing on green trees
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| In the navigator, and keep the heat for them playa hatas
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| Now look at murda, murda, murda
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| And this kill, kill, kill
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| This shits real
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| Stay strapped and capped, to get pealed
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| And mama always told me If you aint down to ride with god
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| Down to die with god
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| You aint no mother fucking soldier
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| No limit datted on my back and my stomach
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| Cuz ima mother fucking fool
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| Uhhh, show me love
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| Cuz when I make music with thugs, I make moves
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| Well im coming out hard
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| I was coming out large
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| Seen this guy named van
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| I bring the pain
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| Look everybody coming out stars
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| See now me, C, and Snoop in da coupe
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| In da house thinking about loop
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| I told niggas
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| Rap shit isnt bad, I blast’em, So I ask’em, I shoot
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| Just a young nigga bout raising hell and makin mail
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| If you a trip
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| I told you I was making this shit on bail (that's cool)
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| Back up nigga, cant flame that shit like drugs
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| And see ima nigga, im gonna hang like a nigga
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| Bang that shit like it was crips and bloods
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| Now deal weed nigga
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| Strapped up in my fatigue
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| Cant hold me down
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| Don’t even trip my nigga Snoop
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| If you a soldier now
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| Do what ya think bitch
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| For this tank bitch
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| I stay quick and work
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| And I got No Limit scattered on my fucking forehead
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| That’s why I do so much dirt |