| Say check this out Bleed, look Concentration Camp in
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| this bitch
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| gettin heavy, ya heard me? |
| We all foldin paper nigga,
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| you
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| Lucky Nuckles, that nigga Loc, Big Happy, Lee Tyme,
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| you know me
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| Maxminelli I’m foldin paper nigga, an Boo, an we layin
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| low
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| cuz that’s what Lay Low do, ya heard me?
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| I’m tellin you, by the time that nigga OG come out of
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| Paris
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| we gonna have somethin real swole to fold
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| my nigga down in Bam foldin paper, my nigga Poola
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| my nigga Big Poola Mic
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| an we be bout ta let em know what’s the motherfuckin
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| count say!
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| Chorus x1 (Maxminelli)
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| The mutha fuckin count don’t stop, an they don’t quit
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| Shit a nigga can’t fuck wit, you can’t fuck wit
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| You only live once that’s how its cut,
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| So where the weed Young Bleed lets get tore up!
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| Verse 1-(Young Bleed)
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| The ghetto got me givin up no love, tod ya this
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| mornin,
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| you gotta know a nigga yearnin,
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| niggaz stole from the stop an go,
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| an seperate my weed from the seeds,
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| an roll an optimo,
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| an saddle up my cattle cuz lets roll boy,
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| an every nigga I know, livin it up like a cowboy, |
| shootin up some shit, for the fuck of it an I’m lovin
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| it,
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| I got a tray-80 for rainy days, an I’m huggin it, an
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| muggin,
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| while I’m sippin on a young tre-deuce, four-five,
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| all the way live, wit my homies wanna ride, southside,
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| got yo mouth wide,
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| buggin for nothin, try to twerk somethin nigga
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| or hurt somethin nigga,
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| look here, I be yo Huckleberry playin it rough,
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| quick on the draw like the last outlaw,
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| killin 'em softly,
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| hollerin dawg get off me,
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| tryin to boss me, an cost me a grip,
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| an got the nerve to get flipped wit a nigga,
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| but see Trix is for |