| Oh, you ain’t heard?
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| Him and dopeman ain’t cool no more
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| 'Cause dopeman tried to charge him double for the usual
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| Damn
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| You just don’t hear good news no more
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| After I tell this story, I gotta kill who I told
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| Okay, his new package had came in
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| Had the whole house stankin'
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| Traphouse doorbell ringin'
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| Traphouse gettin' too famous
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| His traphouse poppin' all night
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| The porch light should be strobe lights
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| That shit them police don’t like
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| You know them pigs no good like pork rinds
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| Gotta go home to that whore wife
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| That don’t never wan' fuck, just start fights
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| And he just made a hard right at the wrong time
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| They pulled him over, if they only write him a ticket, he’ll be alright
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| Yeah, right
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| ‘Cause you know he fit the description of a black male that sell white
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| AK on the backseat
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| Trunk full of cocaína
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| He stepped on the gas and got ghost on 'em
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| His bitch scream like she seen one
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| He said, «Shut up while I speed up»
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| She said, «I think you lost 'em,» now he think he lost 'em
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| Now he lost his train of thought
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| The voice in his head said, «All aboard»
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| And he woke up, don’t listen to that bitch
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| She coked up off of his stuff
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| And he know it’s good
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| Where the popcorn? |
| This story good, call Hollywood
|
| But anyway, let a nigga get back to it
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| He came to a neighborhood and he zig-zagged through it
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| He didn’t see the lights, but he still heard the sirens
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| Cut off all his lights and they drove right by him, woo
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| Chapter two
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| Traphouse just got cable
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| Stuntin' on the neighbors
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| The cable man was the feds though
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| A four-year-old was in bed though
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| He woke up when he heard the Glocks cock
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| You wouldn’t believe what happened ten seconds later
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| To be continued, dot, dot, dot
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| Ten seconds left, he gon' get it
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| Mag in his mouth, mean like a fitted
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| Caught him in the pool room, two to his head
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| In the room and boom, they did it, wow
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| Face on the ground, Ace of Spade on the ground
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| Run, bullets, they’ll chase you around
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| Don’t listen to me, these niggas ain’t playin'
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| Yo, they’ll lace 'em down, feel it
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| One hit Willy
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| Other nigga live with a milli
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| Other nigga ride him Phillies
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| Run through the hood, all blood, blowin' bills on grils
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| Just chillin' up in New York City
|
| One got witty
|
| Took his mask off, he a dumbass
|
| Got him on viddy
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| Somebody yelled out, «Yo, that’s 'Chelle»
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| Blaow, blaow, caught her in the titty, huh
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| Four more shells went to his face like gazelles
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| Bloody, they laced him up well
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| Niggas stop shootin', get the loot
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| Stop bullshittin', boy, you wild, stop playin' yourself
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| This ain’t good, now they fucked
|
| Police barricade the buildin', what?
|
| Now we stuck
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| Now this clown-ass nigga just fucked us all up (Up)
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| Eleven more shots
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| Came to the door was the cops
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| Chain popped off, caught him in his top
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| Fell to the floor, damn four-year-old shorty just looked up
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| Said, «They got you»
|
| Damn, another nigga dead
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| Another nigga head licked, damn, they copped out
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| What’s it all about, kid?
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| Max out, shed, play the background, we’s out
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| Mwah
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| There’s always more to the story (To the story)
|
| There’s always more to the story
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| You ain’t hear it from me (Hear it from me)
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| And what you hear, don’t repeat (Don't repeat)
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| Or disappear in your sleep
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| And you ain’t hear this from me (This from me)
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| There’s always more to the story (To the story)
|
| And that’s the moral to the story
|
| Nigga, listen to me (Listen to me)
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| Fuck what you hear in these streets, yeah (Streets)
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| And if I hear you them people
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| You ain’t hearin' from me (From me) |