| I ain’t that nigga
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| I just thought I’ll let you know
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| When I’m rollin with a black fo'-fo'
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| I ain’t that nigga
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| Naw I ain’t a (Gangster)
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| but kick it with board members and governors that love Larry Hoover
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| Niggaz that’ll do ya
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| Down for my rifle over Disciple now have your momma screamin out «Hallelujah»
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| And no I ain’t a Vice Lord
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| but I kick it with niggaz that bring that shit to the left
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| CVL, love the PL, and thug folks that love low
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| Down with my clique to the death
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| And naw, I ain’t a Black Peace Stone
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| but when I was gettin production from Villain we was chillin
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| Southside, swole brothers with long-ass braids
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| Some real niggaz stackin millions to the ceiling
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| And naw I ain’t a Soul
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| but got into it with Dolla and Rock, picnic with Jack Bobo
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| Knew all them niggaz when my raps flow slow
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| before I was rollin black Benzes on black mo'-mo's
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| And I got plenty friends and relatives
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| that still be all up in the mix
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| Out ch’ere up in the streets, well fuck this rap shit
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| Nigga I got guns, you ain’t gon' do shit
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| I ain’t gon' be frontin and fakin and actin petty all in my music
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| Uh-uh, that’s too lame
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| When it’s on it’s on, I pop a nigga when you gone you gone
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| You finna be wiped off the earth like a memory, what’s dude name?
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| Huh, naw I ain’t a killer
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| but I’ll stank a motherfucker while I’m hooded if he pull it
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| Make a nigga bite the bullet
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| Hit him with the chrome cause I gotta show it’s on to the fullest
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| And naw I ain’t chief
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| but I’m a motherfuckin beast when it come to runnin in the streets
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| Ain’t been on it in a minute cause a nigga gettin money
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| When I do it’s cause a nigga gotta eat
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| And naw I ain’t solid
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| but I got the utmost respect for a nigga if he hollered
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| Or if he ride in a V6, I know he be the shit
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| To the real G’s I gotta pay homage
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| And naw I ain’t hard
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| but on God I’ll push a nigga shit back and leave him scarred
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| Get the infrared beam and then go and steal 'em, steam 'em
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| Stank a nigga then go put the car in my garage
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| I spit crack, you gotta pardon my barrage
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| of lyrics I’m throwin discardin the façade
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| The thieves wanna be thugs try to put on for the streets on beats
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| but got no heart up in the mob
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| Quit lyin, you the metaphorically speakin motherfuckers
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| that want it with real niggaz that’s out ch’ere
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| Give a description of a helluva gun
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| but you don’t really wanna feel it from real triggers that’s out ch’ere
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| Naw, I ain’t a player
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| but in my city all the bitches honor me like I’m the mayor
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| Devastatin rhyme sayer
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| but if you wanna make it bigger than words I got a sprayer
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| And naw I ain’t a pimp
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| But peel a hoe for a fimp and I walk with a limp
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| While I be smokin on that hemp
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| And at the party bitches sayin «Look at him, look at him!»
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| And naw, I ain’t no mark or no coward
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| Come at me you gon' get your lil' heart devoured
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| We don’t buckle easy to threats
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| We be comin after necks for tecs for sex, money and power
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| Been doin it big for so long everybody around us talk shit
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| Can’t do nothin but hate, off the money we makin
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| We don’t come up off of rappin we comin up off bricks
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| You lil' soft bitch |