| Taking over this shit nigga
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| The war has now begun
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| Jump in front of the gun if you wanna
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| You gon be a motherfucking goner
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| Watch out for this blue and gray
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| Cause we gon make way
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| I put this on the West nigga
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| S.L.A.B. | 
| gon be on top of this shit here
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| I know you niggas in the game, finna feel me
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| I’m never gon shut up, until a nigga kill me
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| And I feel like I’m headed, to the Penitentiary
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| Cause this is the part, when we ride on our enemies
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| I spit slow, so these snitch niggas can know who I be
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| Z-Ro the Crooked, I’ve infected more people than H.I.V
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| Say hello and say la-vi with it, it don’t matter to me
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| My motherfucking family, S-L-A-B in back of me
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| Tragedies often is prevented, but when the windows be this tinted
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| It’ll be a drive by, chastising niggas spirits as I slide by
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| Don’t ever in your life, try to challenge my mind’s eye
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| Fuck around and make me, make these motherfuckers die
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| So listen to the sound of Fraiser, releasing his anger
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| Listen to the sound of Douglas, with one in the chamber
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| Listen to the sound of me, spilling my hate with this Mack
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| And I can’t stop, until I see my nigga Joseph with stacks
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| Pants sagging, cause I got my pistol in my pocket
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| And it ain’t nothing to cock it, throw a search party for your wig and rock it
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| Head busting, Z-Ro standing over your bed dumping
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| Be gone before the FED’s running, real life head humming
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| You ever see a guerilla, with his hands quicker
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| Cause Trae been clicking on fake niggas, just like that bitch nigga
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| We realer, we them niggas that be Maabing on bitches
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| Cause all that pistol play capping, finna to get you put up with stitches
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| I heard that controversy sells, but down South it’ll get you hurt
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| And if you in it get fucked over, I’m about to raise up your skirt
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| It ain’t no need to take it back, not when they slug’s been shot
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| I’m fresh off the block I’m hot, and you about to get dropped
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| I’m feeling like Pac, so now I gotta ride on you cats
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| And all of my enemies better move, before they get put on they back
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| A soldier bout to attack, if you want me let’s get it cracking
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| That’s going for any one of you niggas, thinking we rapping
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| On down to friends and foes, you niggas gotta go
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| Then again I ain’t got no friends, cause most of 'em turned to hoes
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| And to the niggas, that love to put a slug under they breath
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| I’ma lean on a nigga, and bring that bitch out of they chest
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| I’m a soldier, 4−5 strapped in the holster
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| Shells popping out, like a motherfucking toaster
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| Archie Lee the hood legend, I rep’s my block
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| I hit your spot, pull out connect my knots
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| I got a gun fetish nigga, with techs and Glocks
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| So many infrared beams, it’s like connect the dots
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| I wish you would, try some hoe shit in the hood
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| Be the nigga with a bat, till I split the wood
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| Now they say Hitman, is darraigned in his mind
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| I’m just a hard head nigga, throwing up gang signs
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| Back in the days man, I use to slang dimes
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| Now I floss fo' dot, sixes with mine
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| And I never turn my back, on my niggas
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| Hard heads till I die, representing mob figgas
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| Mafia Joe Boy, my nigga Dee-Da-Wee
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| Agg and C, can’t forget Knock and QB holla
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| I’m throwed in the mind, and I’m whacking 'em off
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| Keep my pistol cocked by my side, ready to fire it off
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| Dropping bombs on you son of a bitches, like my name Sadaam
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| Motherfucker fin know when I make it rain, look bitch it pours
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| When you feel that you ready, bring it steady and heavy
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| Motherfuckers gon have to kill me, before I’m gon let 'em
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| Take me out for my money, bitch you trying my patience
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| Trying to violate me, my nine’ll start penetrating faces
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| Penitentiary chances, looking over my shoulder
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| In the kitchen burning down bricks, hot over the stover
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| Since I’m constantly rising, how in the fuck can I fall
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| Motherfuckers playing with fire, I’m burning 'em all
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| I’m going get ammunition, for niggas with competition
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| So pay attention and listen, I’m busting at Expeditions
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| Wishing for any hater-ation, my beam is what you facing
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| Bust with no hesitation, at niggas that’s imitation
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| Ain’t no procrastination, I’m quick to bust heads
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| Lil B is leaving these tweety bird, niggas for dead | 
| Bust at my enemies, these niggas not kin to me
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| Not even a friend to me, using my clip until it’s empty
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| Cause I’m a gangsta, you wanksta fuck around and shank you
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| I think you better move around, 'fore I treat you like a child and spank you
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| Drop you pop you, with nothing but automatics of weapons
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| When I start to let loose, boys be praying for protection
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| Get 'em up get 'em up, early in the morning
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| Crack of dawn and, I drunk a eight and I ain’t yawning
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| Nigga be thinking they gon catch me sleeping, but they not
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| So I keep a couple of Glocks, these boys need to stop
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| Giving niggas head shots, and rocking they body
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| And once you make us mad, it ain’t no stopping nobody
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| Everybody got shotty, Guerilla Maab the mob nigga some hard head niggas
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| They gon kill us or feel us, so this how C do it
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| (what) Uh-huh, fuck 97−9
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| They ain’t gotta play my shit one time, and I’ma shine
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| We started off underground, we’ll take it back underground
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| And take everything over, we got 'em loving our sound
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| I’m with that Lil C, from the C-R's Hogg
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| C ease up, niggas is all on our nuts
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| Bandanas in the wrong pocket, so I’m all in they guts
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| With a shank or a knife, cause I don’t need a gun
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| I tear a nigga’s ass up, so I don’t need to run
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| Five deuce out of the C-side, I’ll show you how a G ride
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| You can’t stand this jeep ride, cause you ain’t even see live
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| Falsified nigga, with a flag and some Chucks
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| I grab the pistol grip pump, make it dump when I bust
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| I hopped it and pancaked it, and hopped out mean mugging
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| Walking up close, I hope you peeping this beam cuzin
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| I blew his head in his lap, thanks to the Mack
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| That I got from the Lac, put it to his head and opened it back
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| Checking his pockets and hope for a stack, and hope to get back
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| To the Lac and hope to get back down the streets, I’m back to the shack |