| They say what goes around comes around
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| This rap game is a gamble, it’s like a roulette wheel
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| You just gotta learn to take the ups with the downs
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| Here comes the first thing, you know I don’t fake it
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| Usually bust raps on how to rob a nigga naked
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| Made for the Benjie, crack era frenzy
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| Rest in peace Spuds MacKenzie
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| Major or independent, this street shit I represent it
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| We look major on the independent
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| Go dig down your bitch mouth to where her neck be
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| And explode like Mentos in a Pepsi
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| Good morning, scrub, Built you a little fort huh
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| Fuck your fort, little nigga
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| This blood sport, little nigga
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| You balling on the wrong court, little nigga
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| Right now, homie, you staring down a barrel
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| This is the sound of New York airing out to battle
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| But as the game goes on and all you lames fall off
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| Me and Statik show off, show off
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| What goes around comes around, am I coming or going?
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| Only God knows when my time’ll come to its closing
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| I got a wonderful flow and a bright future, a nice Ruger
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| I just might shoot ya with this gun that I’m holding
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| I’ve never been no shook ass, I ain’t running from no one
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| Brought a can of whoop ass y’all don’t want me to open
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| Who want it with Easy? |
| Got a militant mind
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| And a weapon with enough bullets to fill up your spine
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| Plotting on getting to mine, I may let 'em out
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| Bet I give 'em more rounds than a Mayweather bout
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| When I aim at his scalp and bang 'em out
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| You would think his brains was chilling how them hanging out
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| For real, and your women I’m all in 'em
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| They calling 'em a G-star in the hood like raw denim
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| Your boy kill 'em back to back, bringing this rap shit back
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| Spazzing black on these Statik tracks
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| It’s easy |