| I, don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| Don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| I’ve been out in L.A. with Dre and Snoop for so long
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| I’m fin ta Crip walk and put some muh’fuckin' khakis on
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| Nah that’s aight man I ain’t got nothin' to prove
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| I’m rich but I still live like I got nothin' to lose
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| Look man, I don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| I don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| But get outta line and Snoop’s upside ya head
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| The media they write whatever they choose
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| And the cops stay on my ass so I stay on the news
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| These other rap niggas couldn’t walk in my shoes
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| Went through a bunch of bullshit while I was payin' my dues
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| They say my music make a gangsta wanna pop somethin'
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| Well tell them niggas they’ll get popped, they should stop frontin'
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| You heard of me, but do you know how I get down
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| Stay with a vest on, roll with a couple tre-pounds
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| In case you motherfuckers wanna jump bad now
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| I’ll start some bullshit and I’ma lay ya punk ass down
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| I, don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| Don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| Hittin' niggas from long range for writin' the wrong thangs
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| My name YOUNG BUCK but I look like a old mayn
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| Just 'cause I like ice don’t compare me to Lil Wayne
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| I make rap niggas disappear like Lil Zane
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| See Buck been shot, but not more than 50
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| I don’t dance, what I look like signin' with Diddy?
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| I got plans, grenades and the G-Unit with me
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| And on command, we spray give a fuck who we hittin'
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| What’s in my hand? |
| A tan 'bout a hundred and sixty
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| Hollow tips, four-fifths with the rubber grip
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| Crips and Bloods they show me love like I’m claimin' a set
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| These industry niggas know they better pay me my cheque
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| I get a kick outta seein' these broke ass rappers
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| Ten people showed up, that’s why your show got cancelled
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| 50 whatever they did to the kid is handled
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| Niggas callin' for these features but they get no answers
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| FUCK Y’ALL NIGGAS
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| I, don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| Don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| Everywhere we go, just leaves number one
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| We won’t stop, every Billboard chart
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| (We number one, number one, number one)
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| Man we own that slot, we won’t stop
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| [I, don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down
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| Don’t know what you been thinkin'
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| Don’t know what you been drinkin'
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| But you get outta line boy, I’ll lay your ass down]
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| A bitch know it’s a privilege if I stop to check her
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| Nigga all I got is hot shit, the kids call me Dr. Pepper
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| And I don’t mean a soda
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| The 16 top shot loader’ll bend ya ass up like yoga
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| Your fuckin' with a soldier
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| I’m sellin' tickets for a first class trip to a hospital folder
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| So please keep talkin'
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| So we can spread your feet
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| And have you on your boulevard C-Walkin'
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| The birds keep hawkin', why?
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| 'Cause I’m burnin' every CD and Walkman from D.C. to Boston
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| I laugh at a snotty chick, bitch I don’t argue
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| I’ll leave a print in your ass from a karate kick
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| Them niggas that I be with, got guns on the big body tip
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| And if they pull out you’d prolly shit
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| Jewelry got me in heavy gray pictures
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| Plus I light up trees like every day’s Christmas (OHHH!)
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| SHIT! |
| Pull that back |