| We gettin' our burn
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| Here we go again
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| I bet y’all saying to y’all self: «The fuck these niggas last so long, man?»
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| And my response to that is, I palms don’t ever stop itching, nigga
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| You know, it’s about that you hear it right now, so…
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| We back, people, for more money, more jewelry, more vehicles
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| Less hangers on, tag-alongs, and leech dudes
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| We back minus that weak label trying to hold us back
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| Now we gettin' more profits every unit shipped
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| You gettin' returns, your album ain’t movin' shit
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| We gettin' our burn in places we don’t even live
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| We learn you niggas on this game and how to stay afloat
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| We teach you clowns about some things that y’all don’t know
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| Like how to bang out songs for 12 years straight
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| And that’s not all—they all gotta be gangsta
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| Consistent anthems, put us up against whoever
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| We got a thing for competition, only make us better
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| And better and better, I know you can’t believe your ears
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| You pinching yourself, but doggie, this is all real
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| Convincing yourself that we Cell Block 4 thugs
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| Man, that’s how the last nigga got bucked
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| Homie, don’t get it twisted, I been gettin' money since '90
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| ‘Fore Magic retired and Lakers head coach was Pat Riley
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| I bone a bitch then bounce, baby girl, don’t mind me
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| If you mad, take it up with God, that’s how designed me
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| I’m multi-talented—fuck you think Jive signed me?
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| The only thing grimey is that pen that you write with
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| Got your main hoe two-waying me on my Sidekick
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| Talking how she fuck you but she really don’t like it
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| About my paper when it come to that hustle, I all-night it
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| If I ain’t been through it, yo, Havoc won’t bite it
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| I can’t keep it real for shit, but everything happens for a reason
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| So I won’t wifey the wrong bitch
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| I’m a bastard, pimpin' in a Caddy 16
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| I’m a bastard, pimpin' in a Caddy 16
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| Y’all know nothin' ‘bout it, make the Maybach look weak
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| With compartment secretly designed to stash the heat
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| Yo, these niggas know my style—fuck is wrong with you, doggy?
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| Know these cannons’ll blast off and make this place foggy
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| Have everybody in this bitch cramped in the door
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| I just introduce myself and let the hammer applaud
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| Yo, niggas know my style—fuck is wrong with you, doggy?
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| Know these cannons’ll blast off and make this place foggy
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| Have everybody in this bitch cramped in the door
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| Running for life, amazing how you could move the crowd with the 4 |