| That 187 when the ghost on spree
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| I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
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| It’s 187 when the lights on spree
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| It’s that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
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| Vocals out of the windpipe is giving you insight
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| Real New York nigga, that’s word to the pin stripes
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| Can’t fly the kite less the wind right
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| Blow the city up then skip on that Jeremy Lin light
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| Yeah, I’m a shooter like Glen Rice
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| Long range and the Range the color of corn
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| Watching the Bull game
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| Like bird in the garden with the leprechauns
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| Everything is money, upper echelon
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| Cheaper than the food in a Chinese restaurant
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| On the corner in the hood
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| They come to body a man, you’d warn them if you could
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| If you can’t you body them niggas and leave 'em in the woods
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| Faith before favor, lighten our senses since Scarface here
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| Niggas will kill your family for Scarface bread
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| I’m on suicide dough, SP, the ghost on coast with no strap flow
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| What up
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| That 187 when the ghost on spree
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| I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
|
| It’s 187 when the lights on spree
|
| It’s that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like
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| Lyricist, the weed is the therapist, the therapy
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| Cause my pedigree is higher than yours will ever be
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| Devil got kicked out of heaven because of jealousy
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| Balls is like mental telepathy with melody
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| Niggas can’t measure my wave length
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| Playing Max B when I’m pounding the pavement
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| You should get paid off the shit you engaged in
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| Fresh every day like the shit’s an occasion
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| Tell my son to do what I say, don’t do what I do
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| Did shit I shouldn’t have done for a dollar or two
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| And you’ll always be the leader, never follow the crew
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| Study today then peep what tomorrow could do
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| And you keep your ears open for wise words
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| The bird’s the only animal that’s meant to fly first
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| Cause you crawl before you walk and you walk before you run
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| And you fly around the world and you shine like you the sun
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| That 187 when the ghost on spree
|
| I like the toy rappers run for cover tonight
|
| It’s 187 when the lights on spree
|
| It’s that rude boy hip hop, New York shit that you like |