| Yeah
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| Yo, yo
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| I’m in the hood smoking sticks with the squad
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| The mac in the bushes and the stick in the yard
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| Fredo going to get the Henny, grab a fifth and cigars
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| Put out a half a zip to smoke, and I’m twisting it all
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| Niggas drunk, slapboxing in the street, doing pull-ups on the tree
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| My nigga, Killa Tone, pulled up in a V
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| Pulled over, he just got off parole, so we hit the weed
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| I said, «we need a lick to hit», he said «I got what we need
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| ‘Member that fat nigga, Ronnie, from Riverside with all the blocks?
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| Had the G Wagon, used to be with Twon and got shot?
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| I was leaving his bitch house, just finished getting some top
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| Riding down his block, seen his G Wagon parked at the spot
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| So I laid on the nigga and watched
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| I seen his kids and his baby mama, he thought he was low, but now we got the
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| drop
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| That nigga pussy, we probably won’t have to clap him
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| We gon' take the ratchet anyway in case that’s how it got to happen
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| So is you down or what?» |
| my face frowning up
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| Brown in my cup like «what you mean ‘am I down or what?'
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| We laying this nigga down or what?», he said «I'ma bang your jack»
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| Gave my nigga a dap, he slid, I told Pat, «take me back to the crib»
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| I couldn’t sleep, thinking ‘bout it all night
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| That nigga got cake, we all gon' be straight, and Killa, right?
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| I’ve seen his wrist full of ice, that nigga neck was like one of the Migos
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| This lick should be easy as a free throw
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| But I got this rap shit popping and I just signed a deal
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| But they ain’t putting out no music, it’s hard to pay my bills
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| Fuck it, Killa texted and said, «it's time to move
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| Let’s catch him when he come back from taking his daughter to school
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| Nobody else should be home, so everything should go smooth
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| We gon' leave with a couple hundred thousand and some jewels
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| Heard he keep his money stashed behind his picture in the wall»
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| «Copy», he think he 'Lo ‘cause he live in Niagara Falls?
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| We gon' get that nigga and then I’m back on track
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| Hope I don’t have to, but any funny shit, he getting clapped
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| Now we riding down in 190 over that bridge
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| Black Nike techs, ski mask so he don’t know who we is
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| Killa on the walkie talkie said, «he pulled in the driveway»
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| I already climbed in the window like Smokey on Friday
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| Soon as he put his key in and turned the lock
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| Opened the door, he heard my burner cock («Where it’s at, nigga»)
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| Took me to the stash, he had 300 racks and 30 blocks
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| Gave him a leg shot and fled the spot («Hold that, pussy»)
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| Jumped back in the whip, I said, «we're straight, we’re good»
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| We jumped back on the 190 and went straight to the hood
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| Next thing you know, police was on us with sirens on
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| Killa said, «I just got off parole, they’re getting fired on
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| Fuck that, I ain’t going back
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| Just hit the gas if he pull his Glock out, that’ll give us time to hop out»
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| He mashed the gas and we, «pull over over there
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| I’ma hop out first and go and hide in that abandoned church»
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| Be safe, nigga, hit me when you’re at the crib"
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| Then he slid |