| I’m a bull in a china shop, watch how the uzi spit
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| Who we with, bros with hammers and they like too legit
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| I ain’t got any time for your foolishness
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| Raw raps from the same place where the Kufi sits
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| He the mo’fucker always sippin' goose and shit
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| Stomp a rapper out, Timberland boots and shit
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| The left hand is what I give you the contusions with
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| The right hand is where I write all of the ruthless shit
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| Survival of the fit on my Lil' Boosie shit
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| My hands are made of stone cut from that Medusa shit
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| Big gold chains, we was on that dookie shit
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| Still run with the kids I stole the Gucci with
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| I punch you dead in the face so fuck the music shit
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| The guns Commando, Hollywood movie shit
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| Y’all are weird, y’all on that Lollapalooza shit
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| Let the beard grow Alhamdulelah, Sofi shit
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| Y’all are scared when I step inside the booth and shit
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| Cuttin' mo’fuckers cell roll on some sushi shit
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| Y’all are cowards, y’all only talk on computer shit
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| This a Haitian ritual, I’m on my Voodoo shit
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| Find out who’s the realest (Vinnie)
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| Rock it not quick
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| What I’mma hit you with you motherfuckers better duck
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| Death before dishonor, tiger blood y’all are fake
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| I let the .45 blocka blocka rob his cake
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| Dead Sea overlook the view from inside a grave
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| The dictionary definition of dominate
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| Ya’ll weed Germantown brown lord, lots of shake
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| Fat bull, but my pockets never out of shape
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| You a bitch, security guards lock the gates
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| The Louis Vuitton bootleg, Prada fake
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| I’m tryin' to make the same money that Madonna make
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| Eyes never lie, I’m surprised that you not with Jake
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| Rhymes in one take, record an album in an hour straight
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| You a pile of waste, I see a sucker and salivate
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| Cutting motherfuckers off, time to consolidate
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| A thousand pounds of weight’ll force your heart to palpitate
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| It’s Armageddon for you motherfuckers, lock the date
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| Any bitch I meet means that I’mma copulate
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| My revolution will be met with Peter Tosh’s fate
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| That’s the reason that the God is tryin' to populate
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| A connoisseur, I can tell you how the vodka taste
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| The .45 lift you, send you into outer space |