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Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo |
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Just got off the jack with my son thats up north |
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Tellin me he's comin home, and how he's gettin off |
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'cuz his game was weak, killed two months, he's back in the streets |
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With new plans, to expand, to jerk his mans man |
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We had the ultimate stick up, drop, on the brick pick up |
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But yo he can't, 'cuz he's still locked up |
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Jump back on the horn 'cuz his vibe was strong |
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Contacted the kid and told him lets be gone |
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I talked to poet first, yo son, i got a mish-shon |
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Grab the ammunnish-shon, pump up your pythons |
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I know a spot where niggas gettin it, and we can flip on |
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Son they frustrate me, 'cuz these niggas pump with no heat |
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They play the night time sweet, like they can't get beat |
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I got their address, to where they rest and stash their shit |
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Yo, i peeped it out how we can creep, yo yo yo |
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These niggas stay sleep |
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Makin sales, smokin out, and they all get ?geeked? |
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Lets catch 'em zoning, brain under, high and headed home and |
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When they least expect it, lets put the gat to his dome |
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He stuck the key in the door, we ??? four four |
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We pushed our way in, we wasnt playin |
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Ready to spray 'em, tied him down to the a.m. |
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Now we layin, for a beamer, and some bitch named fatima |
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Chorus: prince ad |
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Communicate for the cake, polly for weight outta state |
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Down on digits on the isle with son we can't be late |
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We got moves to make, flood the whole new york state |
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Time to skate to other lands to put food on our plate |
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Communicate for the cake, polly for weight outta state |
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Down on digits on the isle with son we can't be late |
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We got moves to make, flood the whole new york state |
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Time to skate to other lands to put food on our plate |
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Now we travel with the ?crills rock? |
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P, noyd, onslaught on the hottest road with a car load'a shit |
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Isolated on ya whip, on the south i-95, lightin off and more drive |
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?diggy with the seats sung? |
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Half a pie in the trunk with the music blastin |
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Clouds of smoke, yo this lifes no joke |
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We from qb son, we ain't tryin to be broke |
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We makin moves to where the money's at, get it up and bring it back |
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New cats the boogie ot knew how to work it |
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Get the money, couldn't keep it 'cuz they jerked it |
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Bad habits, livin lavish, rockin front and cabbage |
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Tyrin to follow the leader, but paul paid for peter |
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The dirty south ain't the place to sign, son keep ya heat up |
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I'm from ny, city slicker, beat'choo with the g quicker |
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Business so well i'll have your towns clientelle |
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Kyron but me on through the cell, my ot |
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Get that brick money son, i'll meet you back in qb |
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See we flee off, know how to gee off, know how to eat off |
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Know how to make moves so we can keep the heat off |
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See we prefer to skate, to get this food on our plate |
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And keep our name low key on this new york state |
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You know how ?rule? quiet is kept, lets get this money fool |
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Chorus |