| Huh I’m free now nigga, fuck the penitentiary
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| I can’t get my bread in the penitentiary
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| So I’ma keep my mo’fucking feet on solid ground nigga
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| Keep wrecking these shows, keep wrecking these verses
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| And keep cashing these motherfucking checks nigga
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| I’m not about to throw a rock, into a pack of dogs
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| I’ma empty out seventeen at one of ya’ll, and put a name with it
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| Ya’ll fellas shame with it, go on and let the people know
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| Who you talking about, but you won’t cause you playing games with it
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| Don’t the constitution say we got freedom of speech
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| That’s the reason I’m holding court, on you cowards in my streets
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| I’m the king of em, what good is a king to the streets if he ain’t love em
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| Real diamonds in my mouth, I don’t have to smile to get a bling from em
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| Even though I’m locked down, on suicide watch in the jailhouse
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| In a couple of months, you’ll see me cruising by the cops when I bail out
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| And they gon' hate to see me back, rolling on dub-deuces
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| It’s bulletproof on these windows, you can’t send no slugs through it
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| So it ain’t wise, to start gang banging
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| I ain’t even gotta hit you with these double R’s, buck shots’ll leave your
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| brains hanging
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| Boss Hogg Corleone, that’s my brother for life
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| Rest in peace John Hawkins, we got you covered tonight
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| When I get free, all you suckers better watch your ass
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| Soon as I get released, I’ma clock some cash
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| I’m doing time locked down, but I’ll be back on the street
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| I’m down now, but I’ll be back on my feet
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| Ain’t no mo' record labels pimping me
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| Rival gangs wanna finish me, cause they women come to prison to visit me
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| I’m going to harlem Nights but I ain’t playing, I’ma get in free
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| And snatch something similar to Buffy, that’s just the pimp in me
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| So viciously I enter and exit, if you loose change you get collected
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| Seven point two six inches, get ya’ll infected
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| From my rail gun, I don’t come to life until my mail come
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| My rude attitude is natural, not something county jail done
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| If possession is nine tenths of the law, why can’t I go home
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| Even though it’s nothing big to a boss, I’m trying to hold on
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| To sanity, cause losing too many times is really beginning to damage me
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| I’m losing every time Lucifer challenge me
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| But still fighting, even without my publishing I’m still writing
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| Most rappers can’t spit that electric, but this is real lightning
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| I need to be murdered, for what I do to my pen
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| But somebody already died for my sin, so
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| A lot of thangs, fin to change
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| Cause I’m about to receive my recognition, in this game
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| I been pimping my pen for ten, ya’ll act like ya’ll don’t know my name
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| But if I pull out ya’ll peel out, cause ya’ll familiar with my aim
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| Gotta watch my blood pressure, when a scrub test a G
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| I pitch a couple of slugs at ya, I dare ya to stand right next to me
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| Niggas say why you frowning, your smile has so many VS-1's
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| Cause where I’m from it’s shoot or get shot there, you can be the next one
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| To get it, I’m just trying to do some addition with my digits
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| Ya’ll ever wonder why my rhymes are so gutter
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| Cause I came from the gutter, that’s why I spit it gutter
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| King of the Ghetto is tatted, on my upper left arm
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| Try to invade my space, and I will slide you with the teflon
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| If I was rolling one deep, I’d probably still be free
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| But it’s a blessing, cause I know they wanna kill me G
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| Rest in peace Pimp C, thanks for the love on MTV
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| T. Farris, tell all your enemies to fuck with me
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| (*talking*)
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| Huh I’m free now nigga, fuck the penitentiary
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| I can’t get my bread in the penitentiary
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| So I’ma keep my mo’fucking feet on solid ground nigga
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| Keep wrecking these shows, keep wrecking these verses
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| And keep cashing these motherfucking checks nigga |