| It’s boss hogg Corleone, and I’m fuckin' wit the king
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| We bout to drop a fo' in a twenty ounce blue cream
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| I place the order out in cali. |
| for the p. |
| t
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| We get money while you niggas still asleep, and a
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| It’s three in the morning, in the kitchen cooking oz. |
| s
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| Block to bleed, niggas to feed, if I drop' em on 12 comin back 21
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| It’s 80 sippers out the book, I move' em one by one
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| See my hands is fast, my cook game raw
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| I don’t need no pyrex, gimme a coffe mug jar
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| And I whip it to the left, whip it to the right
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| Move it all around till they cook it air tight
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| Let it dry, pop it out the jar, straight to the scale
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| Wrap it up in plastic, straight to the mail
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| It’s boss hogg Corleone, nigga Mike D
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| Bleeds the block cuz I am the streets
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| (Chorus: Z-Ro)2x
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| Here we go
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| Corleone and the King of the Ghetto
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| Nigga we ain’t got no love for you hoes
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| All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
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| Go get it, and come back get that white as snow
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| Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
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| Run up on us bitch you won’t run up no more
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| Cuz we will slide yo bitch ass across the flo, flo, flo
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| I know y’all rappers can’t stand
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| The fact that I’m back fresh outta jail
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| Also focused on nothin but makin my mail
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| Ain’t got no time to waste, cuz the rap game is damn near dead
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| Corleone and the King of the Ghetto, came to raise rap from it’s death bed
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| Every song they play on the radio is bullshit homie
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| Them niggas got they blow up, but we got that good shit homie
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| Matter fact you might even overdose
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| Cuz I’ve been known to cause blood clots
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| I should been known to be a killa, but a bitch killa I never was not
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| I’ve always kept it real, even when everbody around me was fake
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| They don’t make like me no more, my kind don’t break under pressure
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| It’s death before dishonor nigga
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| So that means before a rat, like mickey mouse
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| I’ll be another job for the grave digger
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| I ain’t going back behind the fences with the razors
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| If I’m locked up in the penitentiary, I can’t make no paper
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| So the last time I went, was the last time I’m ever gone be in
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| Instead of a 5 by 6 cell then a big brick home, thats what I live in…
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| (Chorus: Z-Ro)2x
|
| Here we go
|
| Corleone and the King of the Ghetto
|
| Nigga we ain’t got no love for you hoes
|
| All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
|
| Go get it, and come back get that white as snow
|
| Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
|
| Run up on us bitch you won’t run up no more
|
| Cuz we will slide yo bitch ass across the flo, flo, flo
|
| Now every time I ride, I got a pistol on my side
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| Screwed Up Click until it’s over on the Southside
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| I keep my mind on my money, and money on my mind
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| I ain’t got no time no play, I’m on a 24 hour grind
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| Haters wanna see me fallin off of my game
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| They hatin' cuz when they see me I’m havin thangs
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| Dig these blues, if you jack me, I’m jacking you back
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| 24/7 on my clothes, I keep my hand on my strap…
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| See I’m somethin like a playa, somethin like a pimp
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| Gangsta strut on when when I limp like this
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| Is re-turn of rapper slash the hood fella
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| Lookin for a rap to get my groove back like Stella
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| Still got a sack of that A-1 good yella
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| With a baby Glock, ready to rock up out fellas
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| Hit me on the cella, ain’t a damn thang change
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| Yeah,(you know me) nigga I’m still the drank man…
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| (Chorus: Z-Ro)2x
|
| Here we go
|
| Corleone and the King of the Ghetto
|
| Nigga we ain’t got no love for you hoes
|
| All we tryna do is keep collecting dough
|
| Go get it, and come back get that white as snow
|
| Candied doors, yeah they open up and close
|
| Run up on us bitch you won’t run up no more
|
| Cuz we will slide yo bitch ass across the flo, flo, flo |