| Artist: Dayton Family
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| Album: F.B.I
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| Song: F.B.I
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| (Shoestring)
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| I’m wakin up in the mornin, with problems on my mind
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| Motherfuck the education and drug rebilitation
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| I’m smokin on that weed and the green is gettin tasty
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| Dead feds in my closet cause they tried to chase me
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| November the 29th, I bust open my mommas cock
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| Pussy ho addicted to drinking, now I’m addicted to crack rock
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| So motherfuck you bitches and you snitches tryin to do me in
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| Police in disguises, and he tries to buy Peruvian
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| Knockin at my fuckin door, duckin and dodgin on that floor
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| That oopin got you noid', got me reachin' for my forty-four
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| Creepin up out my window pane, I smell cops
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| A honkey on the block, drop to my knee, I took a shot
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| I seen him drop, one time this ain’t the place for that
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| Since he’s a fed, I took off his face for that
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| That shit that he tried to pull
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| You know he couldn’t get away with this
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| Bitch I’m a time bomb, time, so don’t you play with this
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| Fuck being indicted, don’t you try it that’s the fuckin story
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| Cops roll to the cemetary, ain’t no snitches in my laboratory
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| I’m fittin to stir it, rock it up, so where’s my silver spoon
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| I put my yea out on the block, and all you hear is boom
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| This is my set, so you can jet, or get that sweater wet
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| A fed is bloody, he’s been wounded by a fucking tech
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| Rat tat to the tat tat, I’m a take him out of his misery
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| For ridin my nuts and tryin to stick me with delivery
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| Loose lips, sink ships, so this is do or die
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| This is a letter from Shoestring to the F.B.I
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| Backstabbers gone, so I guess you dirty cops are clean
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| You took a father from their family, motherfuck their dreams
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| Is what you said, so motherfucking bitch ass fed
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| I want you dead, I’m gonna pump your ass full of lead
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| Let’s make a deal, this shit is real, ill
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| I pack my steel, you let him go
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| Then we can let you live, you made that switch
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| And now it’s time to kill you bitch
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| Give you an overdose of bullets, and put you in a ditch
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| Drug dealers and fed killers, lets get united
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| Boom holes on them hoes, scream fuck being indicted
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| (Bootleg)
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| Motherfuck the F.B.I., bitches I’m prepared to die
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| XXXXXXX’s back on my dick, cause I won’t slang his drug supply
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| Jail ain’t never scared me none, fuck the feds and vice cops too
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| Distribution of cocaine, is that all y’all can come with dude
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| Bitches betta think, fast find yourself a better snitch
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| Cause that bitch you got smoke rocks
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| So that mean her word ain’t shit
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| If I get some prison time, give me mine, cause I ain’t fake
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| Since my clique don’t snitch
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| When I get out all my connections is straight
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| The journal keeps my name in lights, entrapment to the third degree
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| Before my trial can come, the newspaper want to sentence me
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| Bitch Bootlegs prepared to go, you’ll never get this chance again
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| Gotta call my auntie, they want your nephew in the pen
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| Bitch we ain’t no kin, fuck that smilin I ain’t in that mood
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| Bringin the indictment papers, eatin on my grandmother’s food
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| Bitch you know that’s rude, attitude is to the third degree
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| Send me to penetentiary, come out that bitch a straight up G
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| Never been a busta, always been a hustla
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| Sellin yea, came up bustin caps
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| So we could deal this dime out where I stay
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| Out to make my pay, and sellin yea the only way I know
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| Fiends around the block, soon as I open up my rock house door
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| Gotta make some more, I’m droppin eighth-ies on that digital scale
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| More popular than Taco Bell, taco shells, couldn’t make these sales
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| Motherfuckin bitch, I want a key, give me that uncut raw
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| Shit’ll numb your jaw, the best cocaine these crackheads ever saw
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| Your momma’s eyes are big again, everytime she smokes
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| She plots, since I wouldn’t give her no rock
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| She sending the federal government in my spot
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| Conspiracy and distribution, drop some grip so I can fight it
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| Free again to sell dope, bitch fuck being indicted |