| Who the illest hub dawg you know
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| Peelin slugs at your mug, dealin drugs in front of the projects
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| My projects, more scatter, more street
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| Makin room for more drama, more hustle, more heat
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| I can show you how to get, American money easy
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| It’s the gangster, all motherfuckers envy
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| Leave all semi I tote, clips empty
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| Foes tempt me, I’m seein no penitentiary
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| Crime scene clean, shells, no prints
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| Flee the shootout, X-5, no
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| It’s meant for me to survive this gangster shit
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| Meant for you not to be livin, food for the pigeons
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| It’s rules I’m givin, new lessons for the street
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| This jungle I’m from B don’t breed no weak
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| Lames that don’t know the game please don’t speak
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| You get killed, want me peeled, I’m showin no nigga
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| + (Sean T)
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| Every nigga out there claimin to be the illest
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| I don’t know if y’all know let a nigga know I’m lost in the stipulations
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| Niggas hatin, everybody waitin for the outcome
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| Whatever happened to just to rappin?
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| (Mic graspin, freestyle flow flashin)
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| (Rippin up tracks and, doin the thang)
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| (What'chu niggas know about Sean T and the Game?)
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| (Who's the illest?)
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| I’m off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big
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| I ain’t fuckin with kids, I’m after six digit things
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| Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin
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| This crimin-al lifestyle, keeps me animatin
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| Let’s turf talk before you niggas thuggin it up
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| It don’t matter if you Crip’n, or Blood’n it up
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| Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin on sight
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| But he hoppin on haters like BMX bikes
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| Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights
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| We takin gangster shit to the maximum height
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| But I’m mainly into bubblin, fat grip doublin
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| Big heads I’m lovin 'em, you feelin me y’all
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| Leavin the envious in awe cause I tremendously ball
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| I’m supported by the Game so you know I won’t fall
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| I’ma execute my options, keep wettin my paws
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| And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws
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| Who’s the illest
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| They say «Game, you rappin like you from the East coast,» meet toast
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| Gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke
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| Game got the streets woke young’n, same nigga got the coke runnin
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| Introduce the new fiends to smack
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| Pops told me when I was younger, you can’t live like that
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| So I don’t listen to pops nigga I listen to Kool G. Rap
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| Went from hustlin sacks to heavy weight, shufflin crack
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| Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O. G
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| Ask the reverand kept the church from fallin, young’uns from starvin
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| I’m the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens
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| Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood
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| Kick back, blowin, listen to Marvin
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| Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
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| AK in the sofa, I’m the illest, who come closer
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| To the late ones or great ones fightin over a crown
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| Get shot off that throne, who the illest now, huh?
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| Some say the gangster mentality is dead, imagine that
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| When fools pullin straps out with infrared
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| We’re livin in a time of plagues and corrupt life
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| When homies in the circle end up all trife
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| Tryin to shine bright, but lookin all dim
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| Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen
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| I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh
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| Cause I’m gettin lucrative loot, endless math
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| If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn’t hate
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| But niggas just pig and talk shit behind Jake
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| Man you cain’t knock the hustle, I ain’t fin' to be greedy
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| I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti
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| I’m tryin to slang CD’s in cruise control
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| Instead of sellin illegal pharmaceuticals
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| Should I ask for your advice? |
| Like you would know
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| Fuck it, I’m out to get it, I’m a fool for dough |