| Cock ya guns on this one, fire ya doja on this one
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| Pour ya drank on this one man, 7−1-3
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| Get your C’s up, this the Commission
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| I’ma throw up for my hood, then I’ma blow up for my hood
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| Then I’ma show up for my hood, then I’ma po' up for my hood
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| They don’t want nothing with me, (not me)
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| They don’t want nothing with me, (who me)
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| They don’t want nothing with me, (CMG)
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| They don’t want nothing with me, (S.U.C. baby)
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| I’ma throw up for my hood, then I’ma blow up for my hood
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| Then I’ma show up for my hood, then I’ma po' up for my hood
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| I’m a pimp by nature, and a boss by force
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| I done sold a million records, I’m just not in the Source
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| A lot of niggas in the streets, say they hood as me
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| But on the microphone rapping, not as good as me
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| I’m on the grind going hard, and my pen is hot
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| Yeah, coming for that number one spot
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| Niggas calling out my crew, like my click gon fold
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| But we gon strap 'em to the track, and let the c-train roll
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| I’m a Custom Made Gangsta, and a Capo too
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| It’s independent black cash, nigga thanks to Screw
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| Got my eyes on you niggas, like some contact lens
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| And I’m headed to the top, but still seeking revenge yeah
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| It’s a hundred yards and running, my corners let’s man up
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| It’s some G’s in the building, my niggas let’s stand up
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| Nuts will be taken, hearts will be breaking
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| C.M.G.-S.U.C., history in the making
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| Fuck the background, man my turn is next
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| Tell them folks in New York, to start cutting the check
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| Niggas whispering under the rug, that I’m lost and forgot
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| But on the cool damn fool, check the radar watch
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| All these kings everywhere, I refuse to kneel
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| I’ma end a few careers, when I sign a deal
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| Yeah this S.U.C. |
| bitch, and we mad as fuck
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| All of a sudden, everybody done got so screwed up
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| It’s the takeover, and we coming for placks
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| We coming for Robert Earl, and we coming for Pat
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| 0−5/0−6, we leaving your head bust
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| Southside Houston Texas, they don’t want it with us yeah
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| I’m a Dirty South icon, plus armed and dangerous
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| I’d rather be rich, then be so-called famous
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| These mark niggas rapping, I’ma spit in they face
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| Put the garbage in the dump, and put the trash in the waste
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| These FED’s is moving close, it’s getting scary
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| The next thing you see, is plenty kites and commissary
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| These streets are necessary, they made me legendary
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| Rock solid game, got the frame sitting heavy
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| Niggas think it’s gravy, but we float like the Navy
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| Laid back like a pimp, and let the microphone pay me
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| A different color creed, got different color weed
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| A Custom Made Gangsta, from a different kind of breed
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| Niggas probably bleed, if they testing my round
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| And niggas can get it quick, on my side of the town
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| These niggas is rat-packing, they ain’t fucking with Ke'
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| Chit-chatting in the back, but they don’t want it with me yeah
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| (*talking*)
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| Yeah nigga ha-ha, return of the Teflon Don
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| It’s eight dollas a pop man, it’s independent cash thanks to Screw
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| I’m telling you niggas now mayn, lace ya boots
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| I’m coming for the number one spot
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| You niggas out here, running with my styles man you know
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| Here I come man, the minor set-back for the major come-back
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| You know what it is, C.M.G. |
| my click
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| S.U.C. |
| to the fullest, I’m so Screwed Up
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| Back to the underground, that’s where the money at
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| It’s feeding the family you heard me, ha I might not never sign |