| You think this tattoo on my hand, is for decoration or something
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| Way before I was a loc, the desert eagle was already dumping
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| Rolling around in my dropper, looking out for the coppers
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| Cause I’m coming to pop ya, me and this trigger
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| You don’t wanna fuck with the King of the Ghetto nigga
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| Hey Mr. preacher man, yeah I know the bible
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| I’m not in love with murder, I’m in love with my own survival
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| Pardon me if I’m wrong, but I really don’t give a damn
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| As long as after the bullets stop flying, I walk away with my gun in my hand
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| Nigga don’t run up on me, you could die for less than that
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| I’m about to pitch this fast ball, and your head neck and chest is at bat
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| You ain’t gotta like me, but I bet you gon' respect me
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| And I bet I wear a dress, before I let somebody check me
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| I been running around in this ghetto a long time, I’m doing just fine
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| They don’t hang they drag, I’m talking about these nuts of mine
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| You ain’t gotta believe me homie, just run up and try me
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| You’ll be dead, or hooked up to an IV
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| Top shotta make you move your body, or you can lose your body
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| Move your body, me don’t want no scariness around me
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| Move your body, or you can lose your body
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| Top shot doc’ll make enough weapon, to bruise your body
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| Move your body, or you can lose your body
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| Move your body, me don’t want no scariness around me
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| Move your body, or you can lose your body
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| Top shot doc’ll make enough weapon, to bruise your body
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| (Rude boy), what’s happening my nigga shit what’s cracking
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| (please don’t act a fool boy), shit you know I’m trying to chill mayn
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| Nigga looking at me funny though
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| (cause we don’t need no yellow tape, around the dance hall tonight)
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| Shit I’m trying to get fucked up anyway, (that's right) alright
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| I really be trying to chill, but haters be looking at me all upside my head
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| As if they plan to color me dead
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| And stick me for my bread, before that happen I’ll end up in the FED
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| Doing a triple life sentence, for what I did with an infrared
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| I get a rush when I bust heads open wide, I could damn near die
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| I get a feeling all over my body, just like a PCP high
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| My weapon is with me at all times, never leave home without it
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| Or my attitude, ain’t nothing friendly about it
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| You might get the best of me, but I doubt it just ain’t gon' happen
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| I’m for real about this gangsta shit, but you just think I’m rapping
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| Community never losing is what I’m down with, progression
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| I know how to put my pistol down, and count my blessings
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| The graveyard, is full of homies that died
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| I probably put your homie there, if your homie was fucking with mine
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| Even though a true warrior prays for peace
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| I’ma empty the whole clip, until the day I’m deceased
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| One in the oil, and sixteen in the clip
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| Top shotta keep it good, good cream in the zip
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| When me fly my desert eagle, you’ll do a full flip
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| Me will fear no man, me don’t want no scary buisness
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| Might be lying, no one will see me when me wild like this
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| Just don’t push me button, everything remain crisp
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| Had to do somebody new, it was a real thing mess
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| All of y’all picking them, cheers after me love stick
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| And I boom boom good, but not gon' fall in love with
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| Rule one lift the punani, and focus on rich
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| And if that boy test me, and me dig a bigger ditch
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| Those fools will keep me busy, miss and chop another clip
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| And fifty shot the clip, and then me shot a punk bitch
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| My eyes are everywhere, rude boy me run this
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| Skip town, or you when me out the mighty come kiss
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| I am one you shouldn’t really fuck with |