| Tommy Hil’rockin ice niggaz
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| Tommy Hil’ice rockin niggaz who fuck…
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| Mira, afrente
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| Take a one on one to this shit y’all (yeah)
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| Get your nostrils clear (yeah)
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| Come on, sniff your brains out
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| All my Al Capone, Al Pacino niggaz (yeah)
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| Who’s down with drug smuggling
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| Cappadonna, Golden Arms
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| Verse One: Ghostface Killer
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| Yo, yo Take out the rap kingpin, the black Jesus
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| I know a few niggaz sniff coke, it cause seizures
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| Peace to half-moon Caesars
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| and all the bitches in the bleachers
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| Hot weather, sex on the beaches
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| Jury shopping out of the country
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| Deluxe luxury, people saying dem not change
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| Look, truckle me But what about the Wonder Woman bracelet
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| Two-oh point three diamond cut engraved rubies
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| Kid I laced it My sweet tooth gotta nigga throbbin, ready for robbin
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| But first hit Maria’s, for a butter almond
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| The bionic microphone is stacked mechanic
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| Move like a bunch of Mexicans with bandanas
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| Son, it’s on so we can just Maximillion
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| I got the spot sewn, so we can make a billion
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| The God’s tropical
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| Ladies call me black fruit punch
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| Rainbow, flavored niggas murder niggas for lunch
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| Peace to the Paris crew in the avenue, and my nigga Jay Love
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| Who carries switch blades on the red roof
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| Verse Two: Cappadonna
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| Yo, the first branch, the third leaf, whoever want it got beef
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| I politic, show love, crush those who dare creep
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| Into my realm of sunshine I praise divine
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| Fine line between dawn of dumb, deaf and blind
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| He ain’t mine, he shook like the faggots on daytime
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| Crossed over grain while we was bubblin moonshine
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| Sippin on the Moet, laid up, Rae-Gambino
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| Mastermind the plan, Tony Starks, Cappachino
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| Develop while your head be swellin up all for the nation
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| Blinded by the ice while I release the confrontation
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| Donna holy fat bads of weed, ravioli
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| Pasta, Bodyguard the killa bee songs like Kevin Costner
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| Infrared all inside your bumba rasta
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| Cappadonna pimped the derby like the mobster
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| Interlude: Ghostface
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| Yeah, yeah
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| Eight spaghetti lame brain ass niggaz
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| Quarters, nickels, and dimes bitch
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| Except for overtime nigga
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| Any ass money should be fine
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| Cause I’m coming strong, reaking niggas backs
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| Keepin shit real
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| If you haven’t noticed this crazy ass rusty, ass nigga
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| Let me tell you this four times
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| Tony Starks, Raekwon the chef
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| Cappachino and Golden Arms
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| Is comin through mad strong
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| From the isles of Shaolin
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| For all them faggot ass
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| Rusty ticket-head bitches too
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| Shump shump baby
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| Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef
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| Yo back in the days, baggin crack, scrapin plates
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| Flippin cakes to them heavy head niggaz hatin Jakes
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| It be us, all the war’s soldiers, hangin in halls gettin over
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| City niggaz who for blood money rockin Rovers
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| Stay dipped, don’t have no money in your pocket
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| In the streets while these people mark money in their Jeep
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| Crack bums watch your back for jumps
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| Caught before a fake twenty dollar bill
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| Get em son, we ain’t the one
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| Politickin, purse vickin, sick of these Dominicans
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| Eatin good, had to shoot my way up out of Bennigans
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| That’s life, to top it all off, beef for white
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| pullin bleach out tryin to throw it in my eyesight
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| Yo what the fuck was on yo mind? |