| You know, I’ve clipped a lot of guys in my life
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| Close friends, guys I didn’t know
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| I didn’t always agree that the guy should be clipped
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| But I never questioned the orders and I never went off half-cocked
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| I gotta get back in the streets
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| That’s where all the money is these days
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| From a kid alone, I turned into this grown image
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| From the Popeye cartoons to that grown spinach
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| A young man prone to business, he his own chemist
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| Three quarter mink stone pendants, a stone menace
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| Sleeping with redbone twins, TEC with a chrome finish
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| Parked in a Benz dark-tinted, he gettin' domed in it
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| Massive rocks turn city blocks to Stonehenges
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| Stoned dependence, they visiting methadone clinics
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| Every breadwinner every kid in my zone mimic
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| Keys to the city, chase every dollar that roam in it
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| Life too short, numbers up, God don’t loan minutes
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| Some will see R.I.P soon as this poem ended
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| Ay, you shut up! |
| (I'm moving diesel on 'em)
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| You just listen (I'm moving diesel on 'em)
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| I gotta get back in the streets
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| That’s where all the money is these days (I'm moving diesel on 'em)
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| Thoroughbred DNA in my jugular, I’m a born hustler
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| You was born to be in my service, you’s a born butler
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| I’m from the trenches where paper touchers are long tuckers
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| I’m Big Red hangin' niggas from the eleventh floor
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| Settle scores, your pussy selling whore is Eleanor
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| Jimmy «Clean Hands», what you claiming a felon for?
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| They gon' find you in yellow drawers when the metal draw
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| Decomposed like Skeletor with his melon tore
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| I’m from that place where it’s shady faces and lady rapers
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| Empty fridgerators, cribs with cold radiators
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| Low wages and front page of the paper makers
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| Got that behavior like every one of your neighbors hate ya
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| Drug dealers be the role models, they money stars
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| Inside the bar, throw a hundred yards in your honey bra
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| It’s how the beef shit pop off when the gunnin' start
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| Life trials be the lifestyle in these slummy parts
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| I guess you mad I’m a rich fuckin' man (I'm moving diesel on 'em)
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| You got some fuckin' nerve (I'm moving diesel on 'em)
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| Let him talk, don’t interrupt (I'm moving diesel on 'em)
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| What the fuck you come cryin' to me about? |