| Hit me
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| Aaaaah yeeeaah
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| That’s the flavor right there
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| Sho' you’re right
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| Yo, tell em what it’s all about, man
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| All that ballin' thing
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| How you got it goin' and on and on with that, huh
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| (Tell em what it’s all about)
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| I’m a straight up hustler, never grew up in the ghetto, though
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| Yet strapped with a gat and stiletto, ho
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| Some say that I grew up in a wild hood
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| Not even knowin' where I spent my childhood
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| The voice of panic hittin' hard to make you hyper
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| The rhymes are pin-point and aim is sharp like a sniper
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| Out the barrels, the hollow point, comes the bullet
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| The trigger’s aimin', yo, I ain’t afraid to pull it
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| Cause in the city you never know what can come up
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| You turn your back and what’s up — a sucker runs up
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| And then you’re left in a stand-still
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| Nine times out of ten, yo, it’s kill or be killed
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| So I sit back and observe what goes on
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| So when a brother feels an oath to carryin' on
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| I let him know this ain’t the time and place
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| But there will be a time and place
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| And I’mma smoke his ass.
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| Throw him so deep in the ground, boy, you think he was grass
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| And when you wake up, apologize to your daddy
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| O.G. |
| Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy
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| Youknowmsayin'?
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| Just a O.G. |
| type brother
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| I want you to break it down
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| And tell em about the days of young
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| Now the pimpin' I talkin' 'bout, it don’t include girls
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| I pimp microphones and rock worlds
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| I been a gangsta since back in the day
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| Junior High School, I think it was in '78
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| Back in the days when loc’s was called insanes
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| And I was coolin' with my big cousin Nobrain
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| Back then, you know a sucker wouldn’t face me
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| Scared of catchin' the pointed tips of my Stacy’s
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| Strollin' the street with my sweet girl Jackie
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| Creased Curduroys and starched up khakis
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| Back then that was the style and it was ice
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| And every gear you saw me in was deadly precise
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| I ain’t never had a problem on any block
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| Cause if I did, sho' I cut him and get socked
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| Roll in my Schwin, blazin' up a fattie
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| Young Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy
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| Uknowmsayin?
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| Just a little bad goose neck, uknowmsayin'?
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| Wasn’t really into a whole lotta bullshit
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| Just doin' his own thing
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| Straight get his scrap on
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| But it was kinda cool, uknowmsayin
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| That’s why he was very well respected
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| It ain’t all about who you’re bangin'
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| Gangbangin' or how much dope you’re slingin'
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| It’s all about gettin' your life established
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| And when you’re livin' like Loc, your life is lavish
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| Everything, from my living to my bathtub
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| The exotic women and different type of backrubs
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| The places I travel, the things that I see
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| You’re startin' to get the picture how they start to juice me?
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| You can’t compare me to wanna-pimps whimps
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| Cause that’s entirely a different type of pimp
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| Longevity is the key to my success
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| Not rollin' around makin' women undress
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| I am a player, petty actions surveyor
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| Never heard about a headache, cause I use Vaya
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| So the women can come kiss the sugar daddy
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| O.G. |
| Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy
|
| Uknowmsayin'?
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| It was on to the break of dawn
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| I got it like that
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| I’m sworn to the hood
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| But check
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| I got things to do
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| Check this out
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| An O.G. |
| for life, and that’s what I have to be
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| Just like the homies standin' front and back of me
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| And when you see us don’t ask stupid questions
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| Are we gangbangin? |
| You know what’s our profession
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| We’re servin' suckers techniques and good rhymes
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| Big Buds, loose women and good times
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| I don’t hesitate to check a boy in a second
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| He thinks I’m soft just because I went and made a record
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| It’s that petty thought that got him all smoked out
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| By a brother named Tone who was loc’ed out
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| I nutted up and I’m known to do it on occasion
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| And engagin' in .44s and 12-gauges
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| Some old suckers lay the beat twice as hard
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| And when you see I got 20'000 bodyguards
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| I came to battle with rhymes, knowin' theirs shabby
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| O.G. |
| Loc, boy, a pimp without a Caddy
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| Uknowmsayin'?
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| Straight up down for the crown
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| Tribe thing, uknowmsayin'?
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| No matter who you are or where you come from
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| When they push you back to the wall
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| You got no choice but to come out swingin'
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| Uknowmsayin'
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| And that’s straight up real
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| No matter where you’re from
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| Laws of the street
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| Pimpin' style
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| Special shout-out to the Westside Trizzide
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| Special shout-out to my homies EPMD
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| Special shout-out to Humpy Hump and crew
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| Special shout-out to ATL
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| What’s up with your football game?
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| Tone-Loc 150 yards, don’t know
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| To all the homies on the Westside |