| I’m coming out of twi-light sneak like God!
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| «Num Yo-Ho Ren-Ge Kyo-Ho»
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| Naw baby, I’m that brother that you used to dream about in yo bed
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| When you woke up, soaking wet between yo leg
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| You ain’t runnin' nothin' here but your mouth
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| And trippin' is what you do, but money’s what I’m about
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| You messin' up again with me, when will you learn?
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| Knowing dog-on well humidity messes up my perm
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| So fly! |
| So right!
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| Now let me take a picture of this pitchure and you decide
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| I see some watered-down fools amongst my pimpsmanship
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| Hey Bubba, you with me? |
| (Yeah, playa!) They can’t pimp me
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| I’m a genuine mack and if you got some dirt
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| We’ll put it in a pot and plant it, if it grow that’ll hurt
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| So what really separates me from you is
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| I’m never satisfied when it come to my chips
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| So you, you, him her, them fools in the back
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| Suckas, tricks, bloods, crips, I’m a west coast mack
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| From me to you, straight from the street
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| A thousand dollas a day multiplied by each blister on her feet
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| Equals me, Playa-Hamm and DJ Quik
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| Now substract that by a sucka like you and what you get?
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| I’m getting treated like I’m Ama-Deus, a playa like Horisson
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| Cooler than Arthur Fonserelly and free like Jim Morisson
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| You can bet yo bottom dollar on that
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| You can bet yo bottom dollar on that
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| You can bet yo bottom dollar on that
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| Keep on nockin' but you can’t come in
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| I’m in the hood, rum on the wood, it’s recognizeable
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| Got fatty-assed pockets, they end up for the sizeable
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| I’m liable to take this playa shit where it never been
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| Everytime I pick up my pen I puts it down lifestyle
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| This how I’m livin'
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| Been Up in this the whole while they multiply the division
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| My pants sag, ain’t no flag though I’m associated
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| With pimps, hustlas, macks and tricks who playa hate
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| Now these hoes, wishin they could miss me
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| Everytime I come around, a bitch tryina twist me
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| I’m disappearing like Whodini, they ain’t seein' this
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| Up in the cut I pimp that ass, they rather pee in this
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| I rip the smack like it’s capital
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| Played it like it’s Cavistar
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| Now they Jock like I’m 2Pac
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| Ho-knockin with the fascinating Suga Free
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| P-P, motherfuckin' C
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| Eternally yours with the doors open wide now
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| Ain’t no place for you fakes and frogs to hide now
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| Supreme hood rat hoes, here me to the beat
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| Slang that ass for a chance to ride back seat
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| Trick niggas let 'em leap but I can’t follow 'em
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| Thirty minutes in the suite they wanna swollow cum
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| The drama unfolds bitch, everywhere the P flows
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| I ain’t pennin' pussy, but this is how it goes
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| You can bet yo bottom dollar on that
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| You can bet yo bottom dollar on that
|
| Don’t no suckas live here
|
| You can bet yo bottom dollar on that
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| Don’t no suckas live here
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| Keep on nockin' but you can’t come in
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| Baby you know that «Welcome» sign you seen
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| Before you came into my house
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| Put a «U-N» on that welcome and turn around and get the hell out
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| And don’t tell your boyfriend you live here, Game
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| And I put you stuff in storage on your mama’s name
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| Now see baby run, run baby run
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| Here I come with DJ Quik, Ray-Dog and Shot Gun
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| I bust a trick, with my trick, by my trick, in front of my trick
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| In back of my trick and on the side of my trick, trick!
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| Oh no baby, what you mean you didn’t get your check?
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| You better call your case worker before I break your neck
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| But y’all broke-ass brothers wanna give them freaks a chance
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| Potna that junk played out with Atari, Tuck skins and parachute pants
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| So say what’s up to your forever-treatin-a-freak-bad
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| Friendly-neighborhood-playa-potna Suga Free, man
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| Ah-ha, parlez-vus français? |
| Oui, oui!
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| Sabes español? |
| Si!
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| International playa, baby!
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| No! |
| No! |
| Oh! |
| Oh!
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| Oh! |
| Oh! |
| Yeah! |
| Yeah! |