| Clap ya hands and to the beat, ya’ll
|
| Because the heat’ll make you, clap ya hands and say
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| You go the one for the cash, two for the safe
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| (This is ring tone murder) Let’s dog the place
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| My bars are like a bullet, blow your head right off
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| Hate on the trigger, pull it, give your mouth a night off
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| Give your sound man a c-note to cut your mic off
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| The promoters need me, nigga, you just a write-off
|
| After that, hit the dress room, turn the lights off
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| Score on the fourth broad, let her break my pipe off
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| I used the word 'off' seven times in a rhyme
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| You dumb enough to think I got a limited mind
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| But before you start tweaking, critiquing, pressing rewind
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| Einstein understand, that your third eye’s blind
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| You lack creativity, that’s why you don’t sign
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| They calling me a genius, it’s about time
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| I’m like the tattoos on your mama’s behind
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| I bounce up and down, and at the end I’mma sign
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| And I will humiliate anybody that want it
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| I’m back on stop, it hurts little homey, don’t it?
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| It’s obvious these clowns don’t know who I am
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| Most who didn’t get the message, nigga, check the spam
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| Get your facts right, take your dick out your hand
|
| No homo, but you probably on the low-low, damn
|
| They call Uncle L, I’m from the north side of Queens
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| Now you looking at me, like what does that mean
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| It means I crush you and every coward in between
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| For sounding like girls with them sweet sixteens
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| And I don’t give a fuck about who’s old or young
|
| From what I hear, the graveyard got room for everyone
|
| Test Big Ellie, come and get your head sprung
|
| Which coffin you want, the blue or the red one?
|
| I ain’t gang banging, that ain’t the muthafuckin' point
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| The point is, I spark these niggas like dust joints
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| The point is you gon' pay me what you owe me plus points
|
| Listen to the sound of revenge, it’s my voice
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| Run around talking bout I’m twice ya age
|
| But I was rich at 17, you got some shit to explain
|
| Rap game’s like a movie, niggas playing the role
|
| But your poker game’s too weak, you’re forced to fold
|
| All this hating and debating shit, made me cold
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| Ready to blast, separate ya body from your soul
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| Conniving ass cowards get dropped in a hole
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| These niggas is shook like Pinky’s ass on the pole
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| I’m the bridge over troubled water, pay my toll
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| I’m the rules to the game, you obey my code
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| I’m the center of the bomb, I’m the part that explodes
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| You are not hip hop, nigga, go write for Vogue
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| You are not a king nor prince, you just a toad
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| You ain’t a G, you a hoe, you sweeter than Rocky Road
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| Battle anybody, who want it? |
| Let me know
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| I just had another birthday, nigga, more dough |