| Aiyoo my Dip Set Taliban, we are not a crew
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| We’re more like a movement, more like in tuned with
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| The moon and the stars, some say I’ll soon be doomed for them bars
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| But I could be caught, pissy clubs, saloons and some bars
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| Industry think that they grooming a star nah
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| I’m more like a thug misproving the odds, run around my city all crazy
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| With my goons in some cars
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| I tell 'em
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| Wake up, wake up Gotta go get that cake up, break up Divide that payroll, aiyyoo
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| Go get that ya-yo, ya-yo
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| Killa, paper, holla at Pedro
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| On the 8−0 and wait for my son the lay low
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| Ba’bro
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| When I beef, names will be said tool will be spread
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| Two in your head, body be bagged, eulogy read
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| Dog in the news will get read, cause what I deal with is usually feds
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| On the first
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| Aiyoo, aiyoo, aiyoo, aiyoo, aiyoo, aiyoo
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| It’s the first of the month.
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| Ya-yo, ya-yo, ya-yo, ya-yo-, ya-yo, ya-yo, ya-yo, ya-yo, ya-yo
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| It’s the first of the month.
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| Now I’m the type of dude, post up sell drugs on your property
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| Stone cold hustler, ain’t no fucking denying me I sell drugs in varieties, you want it, I got it You see it, you like it, we count it, you buy it from me
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| I’m what the people call a menace to the public society
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| Fuck 'em I’m riding, my gun on the side of me Fuck it I’m driving, I’m puffing high as can be
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| I’m speeding, I’m weaving, I’m bugging my eye on the street
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| Cam signed to the Roc it’s time that we eat
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| Harlem’s back, this time it’s for keeps
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| You rolling or not?
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| The Takeover’s now, y’all focused or not?
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| We been ready it’s just that our promotion was not
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| But I can’t blame no one for this, I’m all right with that
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| Can’t be racist cause I sell too much white for that
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| So I decided I’mma milk these crackers for all they milk and crackers
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| Until I’m rich and these mills don’t matter
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| Uh, you niggaz follow my plot?
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| If not, swallow these shots, Santana swallow your block
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| I run with enforcers, big dudes and bosses
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| Black, British and Walter, the phone call will cost ya'
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| Keep rolling in them caravans acting
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| We got big trucks with chrome Taliban action
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| Send one up to Jabar, my nigga maxed in T-Money's home and he’s never going back in Aiyo, I swear to God, you think I had a violin the way I fiddle triggers
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| How you older than me, and still a little nigga
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| On the first, I hate these chickens
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| Get their check, hair, nails done, steak and chicken, for they friends
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| And they kids fly, I ain’t open friend, on the 11th, you gonna be broke again
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| Word to Jehova man, hoes in they shoes, barking like a Doberman
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| Coming to see Cam, for some coke again
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| Shit, it’s the first of the month
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| Yo, I’m the first on the block for the cycle
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| A rock that is first like shoots from a rifle
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| See they tainted our image, it’s fucked up how the game painted our image
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| They say we dangerous people, why, because we sell caine to the people
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| That don’t be the reason I be aiming this eagle, my aims to get equal
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| The first and fifteenth’s got some restraints on my people
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| Dip set nigga, Jim Jones, Capo Status
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| Killah the don, Juelz Santana, FREEKY
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| Harlem, my Taliban
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| Eastside, B’s up The first and fifteenth
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| We still going through it Welfare, medicade, some liquor stores
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| Broadway, 7th, 15th, 40th
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| Y’all know the struggle
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| Holla
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| Roc-A-Fella (Whoo!) |