| If somebody got a problem with me, come and address it
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| If the shoe fits it then walk in it I’m talkin to Texas
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| See I’m from a section where we kid each other for practice
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| So I keep grenades and a chopper right under my mattress
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| Please don’t let the gold and the diamonds fool you
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| I promise it’s nothin for your family to lose you
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| It’s just when you speak to me watch ya tone, call the chief on the phone
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| Bring the beef to your home, make you sleep under some stones
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| Z-Ro the Crooked, but you faggots already know my name mayne
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| Know you’d love to catch me slippin in the turnin lane mayne
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| Fuck a rap tuck my strap right in back of my britches
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| I’m just rappin to pay my lawyer for creatin a witness
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| I done smoked somebody befo' and smokin’s a bad habit
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| They say it always take you to your casket, but fuck death
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| Cause I ain’t scared, bitch I’m ready to fly
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| But until I go I’ma murk niggas and get my fetti right now
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| I’m a soldier, these stankers keep me reachin for my holster
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| Sometime I feel my death is creepin closer
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| But I’ma keep on thuggin like I’m 'posed ta, 'posed ta
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| Look at the conditions I was livin in, I didn’t have a clear vision then
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| I needed ends cause there was no residence for me to sleep in
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| Nigga the streets raised me, man they played me sometime
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| But a real nigga regroup relax and take this back on his grind
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| I was gifted with a sick grip game, and it stick to the spoon
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| Plus I’m gifted at spittin make my vocals click to a tune
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| Bitch I’m schizophrenic, I probably won’t stick to this mood
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| Hope I don’t lose it 'fore I have to bring this brick to this dude
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| I heard some niggas got somethin to say 'bout me back in the hood
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| Can’t be Mo City, cause everyday I’ll be back in the hood
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| And we can scrap or we can take it to the straps in the hood
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| You get your stuff or be murdered and won’t be back in the hood
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| Same way I stack the republic I’m just like that in the hood
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| Bring to you a hat in public or a hat in the hood
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| Niggas say Rap-A-Lot ain’t payin me like I ain’t got nuttin
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| If six figures is bein bent over, I’m lovin the fuckin
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| All you niggas that talk down, just might get walked down
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| Become another statistic and down these war grounds
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| Nigga pull up your hands, just look at each other
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| But guaranteed to beat up a bitch he gon' wanna make me suffer
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| So I shoot first, look at his head burst, bleedin
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| And exit to dig a ditch that’s even, give me the reason
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| Promise I’ve been lookin to get some stress off
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| I let the muh’fuckin mac-11 hack everything under the neck off
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| Used to be a problem child now I’m a problem grown up
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| I done done some evil shit and one day I’ma have to own up
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| But when I say somethin homey I mean what I say
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| I’ma murder you straight up or I can lean when I spray
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| Z-Ro the «fuck everybody» nigga from Screwed Up Click
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| Now I ain’t gon' let you bend over to tie your shoes up bitch
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| I’ma launch a Bernard Hopkins type of blow in your jaw
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| That’s the way I police my perimeter, Ro is the law |