| I been repping and running the block, since the age of my youth
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| A gangsta guerilla go-getter, certified as a troop
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| I done had it with niggaz, the only thing that I’m bringing is plex
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| Got me feeling like Kobe Bryant, dumping off eight repping the West
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| Get off of me homie, cause I’ve been known to click on the cool
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| I’m a damn fool, and ain’t no games fin to be played with the tool
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| I’m sick, and I bet you niggaz just don’t want it with Trae
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| Cause if I pull it I’ma spray, and put a slug in your vertebrae
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| Maabing you bitch niggaz, better get out the zone
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| Or else you fin to see me make my slugs, get out the chrome
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| When that Mack get to spitting, you gon get out your home
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| I’m sick of telling you bitch niggaz, to get the fuck on I mean it, you motherfuckers better play your positions
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| Respect the code of the streets, before your bitch ass be missing
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| Or slid up under some’ing swoll up, and blacked out
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| Better give me fifty feet, 'fore I make your lights out
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| I done had enough, of you niggaz
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| Eyes wide open, I ain’t trusting you niggaz
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| Me and Lil’Trae, bout to bust on you niggaz
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| Prepare for the worst of the worst, when I’m rushing you niggaz
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| (I done had enough, of you niggaz
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| Eyes wide open, never trusting you niggaz
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| Me and Mack Biggers, bout to bust on you niggaz
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| Load the clip finna trip when I’m rushing you niggaz, had enough of you
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| niggaz)
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| I done had enough of you fake cats, faking the Maab
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| Now I plan on taking your job, or breaking you off
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| Taking the chips and breaking your jaw, flaming your car
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| With cop killers, when invading your yard
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| That’s just a taste of the Maab, Mack Biggers was shot but I saved the bomb
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| And when I squeeze, only Jesus can save you boy
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| Now what y’all know, about banging and rob
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| Or going state to state, slanging it raw
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| See me I play no games, and say no names
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| And I’m sick and tired of you niggaz, that play hoe games
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| Y’all so close to being dames, so if I say your name
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| Best believed it’s a bullet aiming, at your brain
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| From the streets to the Penn, nigga respect my gangsta
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| Even when I’m draped in flames, with the best of the bangers
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| And only cop killers, rest in the chamber
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| I done had enough of you niggaz, see y’all messing with danger
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| I’m sick of you niggaz, you bout to get me back in the stage
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| Of whipping a nigga ass to the flo', and dumping slugs out the gauge
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| Why these niggaz don’t understand, that it be real in the field
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| Disrespecting my gangsta ways, will be enough to get you killed
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| I got killas on every corner, guerillas ready to mob
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| If you try me thinking I’m playing, I bet I’ll get to the job
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| You walking a thin line, old cake ass nigga
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| Plus I had it up to here, with all you fake ass niggaz
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| What y’all know about Mack Biggers, and Trae the Guerilla Maab
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| And the Planet of the Apes, invading the planet of the fakes
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| Bout to test a nigga stamina, with a K Bound to catch a slug dog, if you standing in the way
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| We could do it for my nigga Charge, or we can do it for Dinkie
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| Regardless of the fact, we gon leave you nigga stinking
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| And if you survive the ride, we gon leave you niggaz thinking
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| Whenever we around dog, it’s best you stop blinking |