| Uh, Uh Yeah
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| We back in the fucking building
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| Diplomats, Young Guru, Jim Jones, Santana, Freaky
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| Came in second half
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| Shit man, only thing we really wanna know right now is
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| What? |
| Is what’s really good? |
| That’s the question
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| Suicide sickness, child negligence
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| Homicide fingerprints, wild evidence (But what?)
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| But thou shall, respect me bloa, bloa
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| Clap, clap, pow, pow, bow down, nigga
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| Be in Columbus never seen Bow Wow (Nope)
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| We big dogs, all on the chow down
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| Chow, and Mr. Giles lay back
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| Santana locked up, get 'em out ASAP
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| Aight, now boy, not tonight
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| I where a bomb to the court like it’s a ice white
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| I’m real ice right, still in the hood
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| But the question for y’all is
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| (DMX) What’s Really Good?
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| (Cam) Nothing, see me on 55th, black scooped it up
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| A-k activated, act stupid, one did act stupid
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| Mac had to move it, from the hood like
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| (DMX) What’s really good?
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| (Cam) I had to lay 'em down, clip him up, sprayed around
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| Split him up, he played the ground, leave, nine stayed around
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| Outlaw on the street, shot four from the three
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| Southpaw Portuguese (What's Really Good?)
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| + (DMX)
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| To all my ladies, ghetto to ghetto
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| Heals, sneakers, slipper stilettos, hello
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| Diplomats are coming to your hood
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| And we wanna know (What's really good?)
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| All my niggas, block for block
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| Rock for rock, top for top
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| Top a top, stash your clocks under the hood
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| And niggas wanna know (What's really good?)
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| Okay I admit
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| I mean they said I was trippin' had to re-edit the spin
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| 44 lead when I’m spitting
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| Shots to the head of my victims
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| Big deserts we grippin' to dry out, you in the desert is slippin'
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| They go through extreme measures to get 'em
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| Them chains and them treasures the glistening
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| You got three hideouts, a bed in the system
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| My brethren I miss them
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| So please tell me y’all
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| (DMX) What’s really good?
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| (J.Jones) Top of the drop when it’s missing
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| MY block when it’s clickin', these rocks when they glistening
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| (DMX) What’s really good?
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| (J.Jones) 145th on this crunk, big 45th in my trunk
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| Big gouty wrists on you chumps
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| Mostly me and sometimes them
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| But mostly me, oh shit man, that’s one time them
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| Squally, so through your set up please
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| And let me know if you really good
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| And let me know if you really hood
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| I like this beat, drums and bells
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| Remind me of bullets, bodies, guns and shells
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| I don’t talk the verse, Polly wanna cracker
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| When she on the stand, you probably wanna smack her
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| Probably wanna clap her, end your day properly
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| Air the shit out like the end of State Property
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| No run away robber, gunner stay half of me the end I see prophecy
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| (DMX) What’s Really Good?
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| I’m in the buggy mon', with the Rugby on
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| Air Force Ones, looking like Lucky Charms
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| Lotta dudes, yelling out «Fuck me, uh?»
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| I’ll blow this bitch dog, what the fuck we on
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| It’s Santana, I’m straight out the box homey
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| Straight to the stoop, straight to the booth when I stepped out the box homey
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| I still got the sun of the box on me
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| Grimy clothes, funky arms, my socks dirty
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| I told you I can count on my boy
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| I’m in trouble, needed bail money, dialed on my boy
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| Shit, and just when I thought it was getting worst
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| I was bailed out scot-free, spittin' this verse, uh-huh
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| You don’t sit in the dirt, clips’ll disperse
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| (Dmx) What’s Really Good
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| (Santana) ME MOTHERFUCKER!!!
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| Don’t play with this, I’m so great at this
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| Santana, bandana, release the eight a spit (COME ON…) |