| Only spotted a rice grain on a chopstick
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| Zoomed out to notice a shiny badge, officer dropkick
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| Must’ve been pork fries, spit a chunk of fodder at his partner
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| As he put the ride in park, I see both eyes staring at the opposite side
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| Of the block as they spied, a fiend glide by
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| Hotter than July, what a bullshit disguise
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| Vest bulging through the sides, aviator hides
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| It’s just 5 past lunch rush, last time a fast guy took a dive
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| Step lively, look alive
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| The city don’t sleep or take naps
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| And won’t easily concede to jake traps
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| How quick he make scraps through fake daps
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| Either the trees, the D, or cracks that break snap
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| Choose your poison, amusing or annoyin'
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| Just be sure to avoid the blues in them boys 'n 'em
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| They’re not toyin', taxpayers help employ 'em
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| They turn around and treat 'em more worser than the goyim
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| Soarin' past the krilla to the other wearin' denim Lees
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| They real dirty, plain clothes enemies
|
| Tend to be pretendin', in it to end a dude’s legacy
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| With numbers that run concurrent, still’ll be a century
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| Or end in a heartbeat, them streets, damn
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| For simply just tryna' eat and feed fam
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| The drug war turned out to be a complete sham
|
| All the while throughout the system, a beat jam
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| Not my problem, he’s here to watch the watchers 'til the last shift
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| And get paid good if who ask «if»
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| And be ready to blast for the hood, don’t let your mask shift
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| And put that work in overtime, 'til the last sniff |