| (Now there ain’t but 20'000 police in the whole town
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| Can you dig?
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| Can you dig it?
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| Caaaan youuuu dig iiiit?!
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| — Yeah!)
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| Run sucker, run sucker, run sucker, run
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| Sucker run, I’m comin like a shotgun
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| Schoolly-School, I’m never gonna be the one
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| And if you think that I’m ever gonna let up
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| Shut up — and just get up
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| I’m on your back, got you runnin like a rabbit
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| I’m in your veins like a cocaine habit
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| And let you know that I’m never gonna stop
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| Until a sucker get dropped
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| I’m not your boy, you ain’t my master
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| Another brother gotta do what he has ta
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| Do, and everything that I wanna
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| The only job I got standin on the corner
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| And everything that I do is illegal
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| Another brother, but the brother was an eagle
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| Run, run, run, run, run, you better run fast
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| Another sucker just got gased
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| Alright sucker, you want the real deal?
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| Here it is, at the tip of the cold steel
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| Shoot a punk and a shoe-shine nigga
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| Shoot em all what Schoolly D figure
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| Line em up, put your finger on the trigger
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| Sit back and take a little swigger
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| And let a rhyme intoxicate your mind
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| Like a cheeba and a forty of wine
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| I’m gettin tired of every other brother in the ghetto
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| Gotta sell a little lleyo
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| Because a brother didn’t have enough knowledge
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| Didn’t know because he didn’t go to college
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| I’m gettin tired of the suckers on my back
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| Because I’m black, hard with a dope rap
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| Do you think a young brother wanna hear that?
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| They rather hear a brother pullin on a git-gat
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| Run, run, run, run, run, you better run fast
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| Another sucker just got gased
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| Jump fast out the startin block
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| ]From this gat from the fact that I hold you will feel the pop
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| Gunshots on the neighborhood
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| Are the sounds of brothers hard up to no good
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| Feel the pain of a bullet wound
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| For suckers tryin to slip and trip, time to meet their doom
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| Like the sounds of a battle cry
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| Either run, soft sucker, or get caught, do or die
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| Flee, it’s the reality
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| Cause I see another weak comp, it’s so violent, see
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| Brothers dyin over property
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| Dope, money, women and ki’s
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| So now the time is at hand
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| You can sit down, be a punk or be a man
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| It’s like chillin, cold lampin on death row
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| And I catch you, boy, in a grave you go
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| Stay out on the move, it ain’t for fun
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| Yo School, make them suckers wanna run, run, run
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| (Run) |