| Ya know what I’m sayin
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| I live my life outside of comfortable
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| I might as well wear house slippers out here nigga
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| Amongst these rivals and shit
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| It’s real shit man
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| Yo
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| Dippin', mind on my riches
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| 36 shots in my clip and this shit rip
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| Listen, you can hear death reppin'
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| Riddin' in his 72 caprice with his weapon
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| Yeah and his name is Husalah
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| Manifesting the real, bringing death to suckas
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| It’s classic, the words of a psycho
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| Hand on my rifle, tucked by the lightpole
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| Itching to take blood
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| Waiting to take life from haters with slanderous tongues
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| I like fights, but it’s fun to handle a gun
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| Niggas been rich, been on the run, been on one
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| My satanic cannon is tragic
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| Everytime I grab it, brraaap and it’s tragic
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| Yeah, I’m smiling, riding in my drop
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| Over a hundred thow wow, shuttin down parking lots, nigga
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| They didn’t believe me
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| When I told them I was crazy, crazy
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| Ridin' in my hundred thousand dollar car
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| Mind on my murder
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| All I think about is murder lately, lately
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| You wanna get fly like a gangsta
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| Push pies like a gangsta
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| But you scared to die like a gangsta
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| And when it’s really going down
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| You niggas ain’t around
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| Mac 9 11, down to ring go 60 rounds
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| Know I can spit like rapid round or slow it down
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| Pop em off with that slow flow, that old show
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| I pull up on fo’s up in the owes, broke
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| Bitches on my dick but all I give a shit about is coke
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| I’m in the mothafucking kitchen whippin'
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| Doin' things with this heroin that’s not to mention
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| Cross country shippin', money is flippin'
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| Loadin' up these clips for these niggas that’s snitching
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| Bitch, my shit rip like a jimmy that don’t fit
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| I told ya’ll niggas that’s it’s Husalah
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| Ridin' in my shit tryna' murder mothafuckas
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| Ridin' round town tryna' murder mothafuckas
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| Murder isn’t easy
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| But when you do it once, you can do it a million times
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| Take a million lives
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| Sellin' dope is easy
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| But when you get caught, ask yourself can you do your time
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| Or snitch and die, this is why
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| I, don’t sleep
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| Keep a long thing that’s at least 3 feet
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| People die everyday cause they instincts weak
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| When you do fail to think then you’re playing for defeat
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| This is real life
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| And the things that people do is real trife
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| More often than not, the results this is your life
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| I’m on my way to the federal correctional
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| Climb in my SL 5 every late night
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| Thinkin' how my life is miraculous
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| Ex-kingpin getting rich from this rap shit
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| In 94 I sold my soul for that crack shit
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| In 99 I found out that was black shit
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| Graduated to bricks, wrote a plan, and attacked it
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| Got rich, but the end was a classic
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| Young dope dealer duckin feds in the traffic
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| Young dope dealer duckin feds in the traffic
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| Got convicted so now I can rap it
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| Most of these rappers never did it so they actin
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| They was never even seen on the set
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| All of they time was gangbanging on the internet
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| But the SL 500 is real
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| The two point 7−6's will take of yo grill
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| By the time this comes out I’m a be locked up
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| But the mob still got shit locked up
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| You gonna get tired of hiding, try to come outside
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| That’s the night your bitch ass gonna get popped up
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| Ya know what I’m sayin'
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| They can’t fuck with this cake shit
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| Now you believe me cause you realize that you’re scared to die
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| From a homicide, homicide
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| I’m ridin' in a hundred-thousand dollar car
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| Going crazy
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| All I think about is murder lately, lately
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| Yeah, yeah
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| Once a-motherfuckin-gain |