| Who done told you this game ain’t cold?
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| They done claim that your jump shot cold?
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| Who ain’t told you this game ain’t cold?
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| They make a tray for your soul
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| Now your life on they Lynch roll, oh!
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| Who ain’t told you this game ain’t cold?
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| Came off of the slave boat
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| Then hopped in the six fo, oh!
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| I be everywhere that you can’t go N-Y to Chicago, switch lanes in the range
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| rove, oh!
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| Better pray that your jump shot cold
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| My homies is down to ride as soon as I give 'em the go
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| You either a friend or a foe
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| The moral to the fact is a homie could shake your hand with the one that he
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| stabbed your back with
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| I got pride in my heart and pain that’s livin' inside
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| You either walk with God or dance with the Devil, gotta decide, you gotta
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| choose up homie, 5−0
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| Right on my side they might pull up on me, I might smoke a pig then slide
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| Ain’t no tellin' what Imma do with this homicide on my mind
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| Lord forgive me for my sins in this game I gotta survive, whoa!
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| Who done told you this game ain’t cold?
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| Better pray that your jump shot cold
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| It’s either that or you represent
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| Niggas for real, my tracks are
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| Can’t relax, if I do I won’t blow
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| Walk in the building my cojones to the floor
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| Whoever remembers those who came close?
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| Put the beat in the body bag the case closed
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| See, we can’t be beat
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| Hate this game not me
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| Me and my homies, mobbin' through these streets
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| We stay low-key, claim what y’all gone be
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| Talkin' through they teeth (oh yeah they comin'), nigga we gone see
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| I’m off the music and medicine, either usin' or sellin' it
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| You can’t get under my skin, insides protected by melanin
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| Ain’t nothing better than breaking the rules and accomplish something they
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| never did
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| Who at the top? |
| Bet I make 'em move out before they settle in
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| Increase the volume to the maximum
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| Put a price on my name catch 'em speaking 'bout me I’m taxin' 'em
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| Either I hop inside of the game and pray I make it far or buy a piece of land
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| and set up shop like Pablo Escobar
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| I bet they watch you with binoculars especially when you popular
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| Just to get a piece of the pie these niggas get to poppin' 'em
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| We do what we gotta do to get it there is no stoppin' us
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| Runnin' up in establishments got 'em ready to lock it up
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| It’s always winter time in this business so grab a coat
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| I’m like a rappin' chupacabra
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| I’m taking out all the goats
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| I had to break open the chains to get my feet on the plane
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| To touch the sky what you was fearin' I was never afraid, fuck the game
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| Who done told you this game ain’t cold?
|
| Better pray that your jump shot cold
|
| It’s either that or you represent
|
| Niggas for real, my tracks are
|
| Can’t relax, if I do I won’t blow
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| Walk in the building my cojones to the floor
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| Whoever remembers those who came close?
|
| Put the beat in the body bag the case closed
|
| See, we can’t be beat
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| Hate this game not me
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| Sometimes you gotta learn to love what you don’t like
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| Me and my homies, mobbin' through these streets
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| All these niggas out here man, they gon' throw a little pussy at ya
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| We stay low-key, claim what y’all gone be
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| But only one bitch can make you cum, you know what I mean? |
| I mean that money,
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| that green
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| Talkin' through they teeth (oh yeah they comin'), nigga we gone see |