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Twenty-seven (Yea, yea, yea, yea) |
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Wu-Tang (Stapleton, Killarmy) |
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Shyheim (T.M.F., Trife the under structure) |
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Word (What's the deal, baby?) |
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For the one-nine-nine-nine shit's gon' change |
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Now it's us in the Range, God's givin us brains |
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I play the game, put my heart into it, you stupid? |
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I'm a gunner, whenever I got the rock I'll shoot it (BLAOW! BLAOW!) |
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The undisputed champion on the M-I-C |
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Been Wu-Tang before it became a production company |
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Stay fresh like Doug, I run with the thugs |
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That'll cut your throat and sell your blood |
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Fifty/fifty love around the border |
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Should be biddin five to fifteen |
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On the Strength for the way I manslaughter |
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Rock your girl's boat like the Titanic |
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Man, I got more numbers than the Ninex, plus the Bell Atlantic |
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More hoes than forty-deuce |
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More clothes than twenty cleptos could boost |
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I'm not havin it |
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I bring it to your label, producer and your management |
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Man, I'm like the Feds, I bring down your establishment |
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Under the Rico, I purchased my 3rd quarterly from Bob Cito |
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Got your block locked like the Dred, Mike Z and Chino |
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You know (What? What?) |
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(Tommy Whispers)Look me eye-to-eye and see what you find |
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A crime nigga, nine spitter, mind digga, refined |
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Power impact, crackin your spine, mankind |
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Blow off the surface like landmines in my pasttime |
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I saw it all, had plenty broads |
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Cut your wig short like Demi Moore |
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Ghost, vanished, most mothafuckas don't know I'm half spanish |
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Hazardous lyrical tactics, pinned to the matress like canvas |
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Get your ass kicked for talkin backwards |
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Puffin Backwoods, walkin thru the back of the hood |
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No protection, Stapleton section |
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Corrupt life, T.M.F. arch style, we rush mic's |
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Disarmed for that gold-piece charm |
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Red alert, we all alarmed, ready for combat |
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No contact, countin backwards ten-to-one |
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Now let me launch that, no way you can catch my format |
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I'm like the Gingerbread Man, movin on land |
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Catch me if you can, I move faster than the average man |
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(Shyheim)You only got one life to live |
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So all of my children, it's better to give than receive |
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Life is short, Days of Our Lives seem to speed |
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Still waitin for the day when Clinton legalize weed |
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You only got one life to live |
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So all of my children, it's better to give than receive |
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Life is short, Days of Our Lives seem to speed |
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Still waitin for the day when Clinton legalize weed |
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(Dom PaChino) It's like gunplay when my darts spray |
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Leave you scarred today, mental washed away |
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I shoot like Hardaway, your body parts decay |
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Slow-lay, too busy lustin the Rol-ay, platinum face |
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I snatch you over-arms, I take you out of space |
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Take you into my orbit, Terrorist gone corporate |
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Choppin tracks into sawdust, son, so you could snort it |
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In the conference room, Terrorist Hymn comin soon |
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Album cover pitch-black like the sky, without the moon |
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To illuminate, in my dome-piece there lies a metal plate |
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Titanium, harder than a lock in your gate |
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Burglarize your enterprise and have fun with your mate |
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Cuz I'm not nasty, when doin my dirt, won't see ya masta me |
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Silent Weapons is a classic like Freddy Bassey |
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What a word pro, electro, grenade logo |
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Forever show how I firmly handle the phono |
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Bitches lust me, my plans of wettin the seeds in the mo-mo |
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Terrorist relatin to Shy, mi vida loco (I feel the same way) |
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(Trife Da God)Yo, yo, yo, yo |
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Eh yo, treasury, stackin this paper for Longevity |
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The money first, put it in work, that be my pedigree |
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Let's take it to higher degree |
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Sit back and visualize so our eyes could see |
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Black God, we livin hard |
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Mugs get scarred, thugs get barred |
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Treated like slaves in the yard |
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Playin the field, most niggas tell and squeal |
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That's why I move for 'self, only me and my steel |
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Cuz Shit Iz Real and leary niggas will rat you out |
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Get under pressure by the jakes when they smack 'em out |
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Gat in they mouth, for talkin, you sleep-walkin |
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Can't play the street often, become a victim for extortion |
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For your fortune, your bank rose |
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Stank hoes, you think I ain't cold? |
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Run up in your crib, take everything, even the sink goes |
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You sweat like a pink rose |
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Can you smell it, when you soft like velvet? |
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Catch one up in your helmet, get dealt wit |
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On the quick-fast, take you on a great adventure like Six Flags |
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Spent every day of my life just tryin to get cash |
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So when my shit blasts |
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Duck behind buildings for shelter, or you'll get hit fast |
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Catch whiplash, fuckin wit Trife, you must've skipped class |
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Your bitch-ass didn't take notes, infra-red scope beamin |
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I'm tired of dreamin, I wanna hit the big screen and |
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But keep an open eye for them cats who stay schemin |
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(Irish folk song) |