| Give me all Gucci colors, my niggas get real for brothers
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| We idolize big lines and nines
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| Jumping out of big joints live, projects
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| Lot of objects, front if you want, you gon' die
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| Lex with a sawed off, Killah gonna tax him in the Waldorf
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| All bloodhounds, pop, show it off
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| Actin' like that money ain’t live
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| Built it from the getty-up, New York City gonna fry
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| Aiyo, son, I take mines, rape lines
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| Yeah, I’m realer than Rikers who orchestrate great crimes
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| Jump out the Lex', lookin' zesty, real Nestle
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| What, picture nigga, except bless me
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| God, I’m high-powered, gun of the hour, crafted Flowers
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| Give it the blend, double it, and blow like the Towers
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| All ya’ll need to take showers, can’t take what’s ours, pa.
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| Been sellin' crack, been sellin' crack
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| Been sellin' crack, livin' the black
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| Revealin' how we flip that, strip cats
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| We write rich raps
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| Help out the body
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| Me, similar to the Gotti story
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| I’m kinda young, son, a fly forty
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| The Reverend cold shittin' on shorty, did it to shorty pop
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| And gave him like ten in his jaw piece
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| Remember this sayin': «Staten Island Gun Slayers»
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| It’s mayors, all gauges, minimum wage the raises.
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| …like to Rock.
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| Niggas be killin' me, actin' like they ain’t feelin' me
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| Knowin' they bustin' them guns with my artillery
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| Usin' my words as if it’s his and hers
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| That’s that shit that make me not wanna pass the herb
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| The fake artist, I’m coming Razor Sharp regardless
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| I bump lah, sowed of liquor, light and spark
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| Make it crunk live, the dirty dirty try and serve me
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| Like black folks in scary movies: you die early
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| Tony Toca, Meth Tical, vida loca
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| Esta loca, if she think I eat the chocha
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| Ma, toss the, smoke ya, win free (Winfrey) like Oprah
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| And un-hoast that roast, your meat, for the butcher
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| Licky lost ya, don’t even come a step closer
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| When I approach a track, I slam like my culture
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| Chill with the feedback, black, we don’t need that
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| GZA told you it’s a «Cold World», where ya heat at?..
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| …like to Rock.
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| Hots on the shit, just so we can lock horns
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| Throw a package in the streets, get the block warm
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| Something happens when we meet, hit the block strong
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| Get it poppin' in your face, taste the popcorn
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| Now that we back on track, can’t lose
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| My back gets huge, bitches Moulin Rouge
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| The way I move, the Cadillac, so smooth
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| Battle rap improve shit, light the fuse
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| Bruised off the booze liquor, doozy kicker
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| The dynamite style, shinin' lights still flicker
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| Wu-Tang stickers is a nuclear reaction
|
| Tony Touch scratch the table, RZA on the back end
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| Pure, the talent, yes, yours truly
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| The brand combination of jazz, class and beauty
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| Here to do my duty, up another notch
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| The gospel according to rap is mega watts
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| Agenda never stop, dead center, mega hot
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| Go mop it up, go cop it when it drops.
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| Woman, you sure like to Rock.
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| Haha, come on over here. |