| Chorus:
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| People came ??
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| Encore, encore
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| People came in by the load
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| Ooh, love is strong
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| (KMG)
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| Yeah y’all, I felt the need, I had to let ya all know
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| How Above The Law flow, we keep it funky gangster ratio
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| Yeah, we taking our time, 'cos patience is a virtue
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| Plus we ain’t in a hurry to motherfuckin' hurtcha, P
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| We checked in date of 1989
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| Intertwined with some chips to sign
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| On the little dotted line
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| It was lovely and the DeNiro was clean
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| Different from the crack money, but green was green
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| Fresh on the scene, niggas didn’t know the time, we enterprising
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| But never realising how the criming and the rhyming would twist
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| And make a hell of a mix
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| Had the neighbourhood fiending like some junkies before a fix
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| Halfa Cali came to get with the source
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| They did after we down, players could have they own choice
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| Either rap singing, or even street singing,
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| It didn’t make a difference, long as the funk you’re bringing
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| Everybody’s down with the Pimp Clinic
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| But all they wanted was a piece, piece of the streets
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| And we be all up in that ass with the quickness,
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| The thickness, yeah
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| Funkin the set from here to the east
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| This is a player thing, this ain’t no fucking bullshit
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| Because we pull shit
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| My name is KMG, I’m from the Clinic and the Park
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| You either get glocked in the dark, or get sparked
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| Yeah, I had to change my wives, change my ways
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| Straight cut the strays and live for better days
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| Low ride, slide
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| Through the street, a real nigga ready to eat
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| Rolling tough with the glock on my seat
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| (Cold 187)
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| Yeah, now I done travelled round the world and said a million rhymes
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| Like with NWA, back in 89
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| I put the C in the controversy in the industry
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| Like Eazy E and Ice T, yo
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| I did thousands of shows, I dissed many faces
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| I deal with new jacks on a waayy out basis
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| I put it down with the true crew
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| We leaving player haters mesmerised when we trip through
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| (KMG: «How many suckas you know?»)
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| Well, I know a whole truck full,
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| I’m trying to stay two steps ahead of any bullshit they tryin to pull
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| Motherfuckers claim they hard,
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| And put in half the work, and did half the dirt
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| Ain’t even from the dirt
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| What I would do if I was you is shut your fuckin' mouth
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| 'Cos we be moving keys while you’re playin house
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| I’m the original rap murderer
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| See, I can beat your ass, rock the mic
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| Or fuck your girl on a good night
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| 'Cos From Pomona to SC
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| I represent the real niggas, daddy, who ride with me
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| Yo, on the real
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| I got skills like a fifth degree black belt
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| Plus I’m ten times more explicit than the ??
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| Niggas making schemes and gimmicks to sell LP’s
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| Instead of being real and stacking G’s
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| Yo, uh, I’m like a fool at a house party,
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| If I’m heated, I fuck it up for e’rybody
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| (KMG: «What's your name, nigga?»)
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| Oh you don’t know, yo,
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| It’s Mr. One Eighty Seven with my dick all in ya ho
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| Yeah, if she wanna ???
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| She won’t know ??? |