| Brooklyn, yo
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| Eyo, it’s the Ill Na Na baby!
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| Brooklyn, let’s get it in
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| I’ve been a star since a virgin in highschool
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| Since the age of fourteen I’ve been a rap bitch version of Mike ???
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| And I don’t know how to trust, the church or the rifle
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| God or the devil, the burner or the Bible
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| Got a black cloud on me, I’ve been cursed by my right ones
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| I’m back bitches! |
| The retun of ya Idol
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| Black hand keep them Lambos and them black Impalas
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| I wreck the style homie, ain’t a bitch chilla
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| I fucks with gangstas baby, like prince Miller
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| And when they locked Tuquan, I felt the East split up
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| He and his Feds, but he left his legacy in killa
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| I keep my killaz on that Brooklyn shit
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| Fox ripped the world like the Brooklyn Bridge
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| I’m back now, Brooklyn ain’t never looked this big
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| I hold it down while y’all lookin' for Big
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| Next blakka Miss
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| I’m in my own fuckin' world, I speak how I feel
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| Sometimes I feel like I’m just too fuckin' real
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| Foxy Brown uh, what the deal is?
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| They ain' got a clue what we about to do
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| FB! |
| You know what it is
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| AZ of course
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| What up boogz? |
| You know I would if I could
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| Bring the hood on the V.I., my man from C. I
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| Said his ball was in the mess hall witchu at jail time
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| Lookin' like you was right at your crib in Alpine
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| No signs of a warrior’s face
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| I know you sprayed if your peer wasn’t so soft while he helped you escape
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| But on the real, we never got a chance to build
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| With all the bullshit somebody shoulda told you to kill
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| To the steel, so many rappers lost they mind
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| Like twentyfive to life never forced they mind
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| Your moms cryin', we spoke, I almost choked
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| Was there the same day to brought yo ass up in the post
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| It’s getting close, see you soon, sometime in June
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| Utilize the red goons for yo mind to bloom
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| A flesh wound always heal, but death that’s it
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| I’ma go now, but let that sit |