| It’s just a day with another night
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| Another pray for another life
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| Another wrong with another right
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| Strong when I’m on this mic
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| Cuz it’s always, a lot of confusion
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| Industry rule number 10 thousand and 80
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| Record company niggas are shady, baby
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| Definetly, never maybe, or have to be
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| A pain in the ass, like 'fuck you, pay me'
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| Crazy, picture me slippin', like a broke transmition
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| I got both positions, I own both the missions
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| I wrote poems for commissions
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| I’m the leader for the squad, when the Gods
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| In a hard perdicament, like
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| Got a hot group, but need they contracts right
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| Or got jerked for your publishing last fight
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| Now you wanna act tight, let me give you advice
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| It don’t matter if you that nice
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| Cuz the bottom line is the kind of mind, not the kind to rhyme
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| Sign, and sealed, delivered, delivered and signed
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| Right now, I know you wanna get yours
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| I’m out my prime, so I got to get mine before I’m out my mind
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| Let’s keep it real, y’all niggas know the deal
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| Rap on your LP’s and don’t own 'em still
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| Don’t own 'em, chill, don’t it feel
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| Foul, don’t own your LP, but you own your bills, now
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| Everybody got a story to tell, or glory to sale
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| But alotta niggas bore me to hell
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| That’s why the number one question
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| Where’s Buck? |
| Get the number one answer
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| Here, let’s hear it up, listen up
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| Yeah, I’m back with the hounds, ridin' round
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| Cuz the hill look deep when you slidin' down, how that sound?
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| I’m from the Crown, plus parts unknown
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| Everybody who met me, took a part of me, home
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| Cuz I be fool droppin', never was with crew hoppin'
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| It’s the true topic, that’ll have y’all fools watchin'
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| Dudes stoppin', in the middle of their tracks, like wait a minute
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| Whose that, that’s Buck, what the fuck?
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| From ya, streets to the industry, friend or enemy
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| In the end it’ll be, who got it, who don’t, who want it, let’s see
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| Niggas say that underground shit
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| Like they don’t want chips, yeah right, they don’t want chips?
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| Let’s get this straight, underground of '93 and '94
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| Ain’t the underground of '98, I see it’s too late
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| For y’all to relate, so fuck it
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| I left my show in the quarter to eight, a quarter to eight
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| And y’all can talk about me and them streets
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| Ain’t shit to hide about BDI, I be in them streets
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| Back on my grind, this week, spread your little rumors
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| I’ma shut up, and this nine gon' speak
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| All y’all internet freaks and click-on thugs
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| On my web, get off my dick, you get no love
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| This ain’t face, but I faith in the snub
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| After failin' with my OJ glove, show 'nuff, cuz |