| Predicate felon style since a juvenile catching cases
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| Runnin' concurrent burnin' weed and gettin' blunted
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| Word to my mama never ran from drama I just confront it
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| See the streets I breath and inhale it
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| Manifested through these mics revealing soon as i spit you feel it
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| Guns I conceal in a CL6, remove the ceiling
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| No jewels I’m on some light shit
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| Frank Mueller watch on my wrist
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| My reputation exceeds your ears bleed soon as I spit digest this
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| Convicts, study my lines like a lower library
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| Lose they appeal in jail it’s real when lives get buried
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| Niggas bust nines but take the older clip in
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| Tattoos over my wounds I’m never slippin'
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| My lynchmen bustin' guns is like an addiction
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| Hustlers scramblin' somewhat of a tradition
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| The truth, live niggas gather round my testimony listen
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| What do you see when you look at us, convicts
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| You know what we see when we look at you
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| We see ourselves
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| But when you look at us
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| You never see yourselves
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| There’s no equivalent lyrically
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| Sickest jewellery I wear
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| Rhymes i spit em beautifully I swear
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| 40 side is where I learned to hustle dimes and bust a nine
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| At any man who fuck with my residential area
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| Left realizing that 'Mega is superior
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| I could be smooth or bring it like a pit terrier
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| Yo, there’s no equivalent to me, fake niggas envy
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| The fact a nigga flow infinitely
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| Son it’s on 'till my clip is empty
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| To me drama is high caliber gats and low tolerance
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| You niggas got no stamina, you can’t fastbreak
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| Against the top rated defense that stopped ya season
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| From advancing to the regional finals
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| I defeated you, my millimeter blew the game open
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| I stay strokin threes and four fours with ease
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| The commentators saw the way I dominate the floor
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| I love this game |