| Waddup, Midwest?
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| THey forgot about the fourth coast
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| Uh, it ain’t nuttin though
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| Waddup Arkansas, Minnesota, Kansas
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| Kentucky, Missouri, everybody in the Lou'!
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| Geah! |
| (HOLLA!)
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| Thinkin 'bout Guy Fisher
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| Never met him, but goddamn that’s my nigga! |
| (why?)
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| I figure real estate, invested pie flipper
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| Never snitch, me I’m in a bathrobe, fly slippers (high 80s')
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| Left Chicago wit good money for five drops
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| Westside, did the Southside like the White Sox (Waddup Stony Island?)
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| Bamboo and Pulaski, K-town is contra (Westside)
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| They’ll dearly depart ya, in front of MacArthur’s (Waddup Madison?)
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| I’m the author for gangsters, tough guys
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| Did the whole Ohio, but I start it off of Buckeye (dey know me!)
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| Columbus to 'Natti, them towns I raped 'em (sure did)
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| Few clowns was hatin (what?!), moved my pounds to Dayton (Let's go)
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| And in Akron, my niggaz they would throw things
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| Not King James, these were coke kings (Buck, waddup baby?)
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| Ain’t he actin grown, doggy you ain’t back at home
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| Then smack the, wrapped in chrome, you better get a chaperone
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| If you know like I know, you should lie low
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| Killa, I used to get it in Ohio
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| Don’t forget the Chi though, guns are like a pyro
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| You keep playin, you will look like a gyro
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| Yo, ga’head and hate me hater
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| 'cause I’m flyer than a aviator? |
| (Yes I am)
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| Well, you’ll get SMACKED with the radiator
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| And I get catered player — wanna talk? |
| Maybe later
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| Told her, her time was up, '88 her, Flavor Flaved her (Boyeeeee!)
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| Need ya neck choked, rather your neck broke
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| Ya dead broke, yet folks the jewels are like AIYYO!
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| And you’ll get yolked up, switchblade poked up
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| Bitch-made since sixth grade, he need his rope cut (yes)
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| Cowboy roped up, y’all boys sold what?
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| Know what? |
| The dope, crack, and coke is in the coat tucked (right here)
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| Roll up, hold up, family, this a hold up!
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| Get close up, soaked up, I’m KG, postup
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| Hoe, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts
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| Family gettin bread, well he about to get his loaf cut (in half)
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| Y’all doped up, this game is sewed up
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| Malcolm X tell the white bitch yo, I want my toes sucked
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| Yo, I’d rather be judged by twelve, than carried by six
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| My twelve and twelve — well, they carry my bricks
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| and them twelve-twelve fiends, they’re married to sniff
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| And the V12, that’s on various trips
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| Y’all make a brotha laugh, me I took another path
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| Come into my habitat, hover crafts, bubble baths
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| Duffle bags stuffed with cash, fell in love with math
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| I got the green Benz, red Range, mustard Jag
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| White coke, tan dope, black gun, trey deuce
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| Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills, Grey Goose
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| Pull out the rat-tat-tat (what you say?)
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| Duck duck, say goose
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| Beige coupe, suede roofs, send him off to Jesus (Jesus)
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| H-deuce, yea yea, piss off the state troops
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| See me, then they don’t, I disappear, say POOF!
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| Play Zeus, homeboy get a replaced tooth
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| Not pot, mean dust when a nigga say juice
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| Killa! |
| Killa.
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| You know what it is, nigga — Harlem
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| 140th &Lennox, you faggot niggaz can suck a dick, fuck niggaz
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| Everybody in the whole Midwest, Indiana
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| Nebraska — Omaha, what’s happenin?
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| Err’body in Denver, Iowa, Illinois
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| Chi-Town, Ohio, you know what it is
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| I’ll be home soon, Killa!
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| Milwaukee, Wisconsin
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| Waddup, Leche?
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| Yo Happy, I’ma drop another package off
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| Duke on that Westside of Chicago
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| Waddup everybody in Columbus? |