| Yeah, the Young Gunners
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| Generation Next, the next generation
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| Big Face, Bola
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| Holla at cha boooys
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| Okay, C and Neef
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| Niggas know what it is
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| State, State Prop Chain Gang, Sigel
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| We got jeopardy nigga
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| Radios don’t give a nigga airplay
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| Knowing them they gots to hear Jay
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| It’s our turn time to attack the game, Buck no fallin back again
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| These niggas better respect our game, or the tec I aim
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| Don’t be scared, be aware of the rap Bron James
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| Even when I couldn’t back my game
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| I had a lot of women workin like Maxwell sing
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| Hung around a lot of bad karma
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| My brother did it so for me it sort of bagged drama
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| It’s just the business, had to lace up my boot
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| Switch up my hoopties, damn I can’t stand it when a nigga a groupie
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| Lookin at me like his nigga’ll shoot me
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| When they should be tryna get at a cutie
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| I got 50 to do em, kill em all cause them niggas’ll sue me
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| And we give a fuck about them, tell them 50'll pursue them
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| All my niggas bust, witnessed a whole lot of death in our young ages
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| Y’all see the stress in our young faces
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| Y’all don’t understand me inside, everytime I see his family I cry
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| So everytime I pump my hand up to God
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| Think of him all night with a tight grip on my heater
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| And I pray that he all right hoping I meet em
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| We pouring liquor on the curb for our niggas up above
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| When it crash through the cement that’s our way of showing love
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| State Prop, you know us, if not you heard of us
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| Tracks murdered, I’m far from raps time we surviving it
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| We still’ll dress up for them clubs or grip up on them snubs
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| Find out where them niggas rest, straight hit them niggas up
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| State Prop, you know us, if not you heard of us
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| Tracks murdered, I’m far from raps time we surviving it
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| This summer’s our summer, Neef Buck come release some of that hunger
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| What’s the waiting for, nigga we ready
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| What’s them shanks for, nigga we heavy
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| Play the Range boy, aiming steady
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| Make his brains look like spaghetti
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| Shotgun playa I’m the black Jim Kelly
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| Plus I heard they be out on the daily
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| Have his brain hanging out of his skelly
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| Banging out on the daily
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| They sick, that is we got guns that crack ribs
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| And we comin, you scared, you don’t know what this is
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| It’s more heat, homie we in the mix
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| You yappin yo lips, we stackin these chips
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| Kidnappin yo bitch, we got it
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| Hustle, don’t knock it
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| Yours ain’t sellin too much on the strip that’s yo problem
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| I’ll show you how to grind from the bottom
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| The beef jump, semiautomatic or revolve em
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| It’s Neef Buck, niggas always said I was a problem
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| The heat tucked, gotta let it out if it’s a problem
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| Show you how to do this thing, straight through the lane
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| Get straight to the change, State Prop Chain Gang
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| And I’m ridin, they frontin, they dyin I’m done
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| Slugs out the eagle, it ain’t bout nothin
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| I got you scrap, commit suicide
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| All y’all need to kill yourself, go head scrap all you’ll do is die
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| Cause fuckin with Mac is do or die
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| You know me scrap, and that cat tell the truest lies
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| Circle your block in the bluest five
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| How I pop two a dime
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| Oozie pop out, two a time
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| Yeah, that’s usually how I do it ma
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| Pull the Ford Concord in line
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| Get hype right before I do a crime
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| Talk to him calm, put the tool to his spine
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| Show em what the whippings and the pills’ll do
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| Little dress, little wig, little heels’ll do
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| Big tech, little sig tinted wheels’ll do
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| Scrap check I turn a mil to a billion too
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| Get the point Amil
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| Muthafucka you can’t point when I hit you, bitch I’ll kill you too
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| By the way send the tellers through
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| Sharp crooks and we eating, get cooks and the dealers through
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| Cause we ridin (they frontin)
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| They dyin, we dumpin
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| Young Gunners, Sigel that ain’t bout nothin nigga |