| I’m sittin in the crib dreamin about Leer jets and coupes
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| The way Salt shoops and how they sell records like Snoop
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| Oops!
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| I’m interrupted by a doorbell
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| 3:52, who the hell
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| Is this?
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| I gets up quick
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| Cocks my shit
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| Stop the dogs from barkin
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| Then proceed to walkin
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| Its a face that I seen before
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| My nigga Sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor
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| Check it I look deeper
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| I see blood up on his sneakers
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| And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth
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| So I dip
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| Nigga, is you creepin or speakin?
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| He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the beacon
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| I opens up the door, pitiful
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| Is he in critical?
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| Retaliation for this one won’t be minimal
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| Cuz I’m a criminal
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| Way before the rap shit
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| Bust the gat shit
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| Puff won’t even know what happened,
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| If it’s done smoothly
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| Silencers on the Uzi
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| Stash in the hooptie
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| My alibi, any cutie
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| With a booty that done fuck the Pop
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| Head spinnin, reminiscin bout my man C-Rock
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| Chorus: repeat 2X
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| Somebody’s got ta die
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| If I got, you got ta go Somebody’s got to die
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| Let the gunshots blow
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| Somebody’s got to die
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| Nobody got ta know
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| That I killed yo ass in the mist, kid
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| Fillin clips he explained our situation
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| Precisely, so we know exactly what we facin
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| Some kid named Jason
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| In a Honda station wagon
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| Was braggin
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| About how much loot and crack he stackin
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| Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique
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| Small crew
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| 'Round the time I was locked up with you
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| True indeed
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| But yo nigga let me proceed
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| Don’t fill them clips too high
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| Give them bullets room to breathe
|
| Damn where was I?
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| Yeah
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| One night in town
|
| Blew the fuck up D-Rock went home
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| And Jay got stuck the fuck up Hit 'em twice
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| Got 'em right for the virgin white
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| Pistol whipped his kids
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| And taped up his wife
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| He said Yo Rock, set em up, no question
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| Wet em up no less
|
| Than 50 shots in his direction
|
| How many shots?
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| Man nigga, I seen mad holes
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| What kinda gats?
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| Hitch links, Cocks, and Calicoles
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| But fuck that
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| I know where all them niggas rest at In the buildin hustlin
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| And they don’t be strapped
|
| Supreme in black
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| Is downstairs, the engine runnin
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| Find a bag to put the guns in And c’mon if yo comin
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| Exchanged hugs and pounds before the throw down
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| How its gonna go down
|
| Lay these niggas low-down
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| Slow down
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| Fuck all that plannin shit
|
| Run up in they cribs
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| And make em catch the man n shit
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| See niggas like you do ten year bids
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| Miss the niggas they want
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| And murder innocent kids
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| Not I One niggas in my eye
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| That’s Jason
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| Ain’t no slugs gonna be wasted
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| Revenge I’m tastin at the tip of my lips
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| I can’t wait to feel my clip in his hips
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| Pass the chocolate
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| Thai
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| Sing ain’t lie
|
| There’s Jason with his back to me Talkin to his faculty
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| I start to get a funny feelins
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| Put the mask on in case his niggas start squealin
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| Scream his name out
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| Squeeze six knuckles shorter
|
| Nigga turned around holdin his daughter |