| Uh yeah, I told you niggas I had PS2 clarity on tracks
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| It’s Young Fever and Worm, the million dollar connection
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| Uh you fucking with Presidential, Commission Music Group
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| And most of all Ghetto Dreams baby, how you think about that one uh
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| Presidential, ain’t nothing to be fucked with
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| Commission Music, ain’t nothing to be fucked with
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| Ghetto Dreams, ain’t nothing to be fucked with
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| You come playing games with us, you out of luck bitch
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| Presidential, ain’t nothing to be fucked with
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| Commission Music, ain’t nothing to be fucked with
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| Ghetto Dreams, ain’t nothing to be fucked with
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| You come playing games with us, goodbye
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| I always had a vision, that I would count cash like the government
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| A attitude like they like it, I’m fucking loving it
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| I never fronted niggas on credit, cancel that brother shit
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| Hover around another strip playa, you on that other shit
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| If there’s cash outside my set, then I’ma cover it
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| Beef I put that shit off in the skillet, and smother it
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| I promised myself to love, not a nan 'nother bitch
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| I’m a pimp, I will make a hoe house out of covenant
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| Niggas fuck around with Fever, and Kevo gon thump ya
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| In all black, pop right out of the hedges and bump ya
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| I rack stats and shots and assists, like original Rucker
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| Your destination is hell, cause heaven don’t want ya
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| They gon find you with your body in the car, head in a dumpster
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| Hate the flame or the game, cause it plays in a monster
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| Slapped off, 151 and Mamosa
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| Ready to make my hollow points, hop out of your head like a toaster
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| With a full head of steam, and a hell of a team
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| Ghetto Dreams, is a money making machine
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| I’m chasing a dream, like Karl Malone chasing a ring
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| By any means, a must that I get this cream
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| Get that do', and spit that sickening flow
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| The C.E.O., and you ought to see me flow
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| You Gusto, the dude from CB4
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| And with that flow, your shit won’t make it out the sto'
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| On tracks I’m a creature, I’m a smashing feature
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| Feel these hard 16's, coming through your speakers
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| I can teach ya, every aspect of the game
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| From putting it all together, to putting it in them chains
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| I’m talking change, in large amounts
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| Coming straight from the streets, to them corporate accounts
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| That’s what counts, and any nigga willing to bet
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| Who the hell said a thug, can’t be an exec
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| Commission Music, call me the franchise player
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| Touring city to city, with my C’s in the air
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| Done seen plenty battles, 'fore I came out the hood
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| And I still lead my team, like a quarterback should
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| And we ain’t to be fucked with, we worser than S.W.A.T
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| Every year two or three niggas, on the streets get shot
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| It’s the Young Don nigga, on a hell of a job
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| Thanks to C.M.G. |
| bitch, we the new black mob
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| This for the family, so it’s mostly for wealth
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| I started my own label, then I signed myself
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| You know the street sweepers sweep, on a late night creep
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| One thang about a killer, he bring it just where you sleep
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| And it’s 7−1-3, my nigga we still holding now
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| Still pimping bitches, my game is called polar bear
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| Multiplying game, get cash any and everywhere
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| Busting off talk, my pistol play is never fair |