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Featuring yukmouth |
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(k.m.g.) |
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seems never, no hesitation for my frustration |
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i feel the years that i'm facin', so it's here money track, i'm lacin' |
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with that gothic lifestyle that i'm used to, voodoo, |
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bent back with a bag of gumby and the hindu. |
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twelve playas, way, beyond control |
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lookin' for two or three bustas that done sold they soul |
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see my name is k.m.g. (whoop whoop), do ya know me? |
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i think ya lightweight like your see-through homies |
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hold this, while i smoke this, make you focus on the pistol & the chrome |
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and the homie fly as, california born. |
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we shake down, at the calabasas home, |
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and when we throw a gathering, ohh baby it's on. |
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see we, shake off the bustas, we got the cops checkin', |
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come down on imitators with they fake jail records. |
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yea, we use our method, our soul searching method, |
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and when we on the block after dark you might catch it. |
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disrespected? never that. cali west coast bellin', |
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check out all my homies with they colors (blue and red, much love) |
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mi amigos, i got my homies daring ya, |
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moody lifestyle mid from the bay area. |
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we like anderson, come ask for free, |
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soul searching with that nigga k.m.g, (k.m.g.) |
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soul searching with that nigga k.m.g. homie, (k.m.g.) |
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you don't wanna fuck with me... |
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(chorus x4) |
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why can't you see the light? |
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(yukmouth) |
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nigga, i was raised in a house full of dope fiends, |
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admiring ballers who sold cream, my street dream |
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like nas, mansion and four car garage, |
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keep trust in god with mob niggas in my enterouge. |
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you see that's why could be for broads, |
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i learned that from my pops when we used to mob the eldora-do, |
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through the muthafuckin' projects, i guess it's in my blood, |
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sometimes it seems like i'm next, to be a thug. |
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and end up selling drugs like my father, |
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or like my partner on the block, man, when i holler, squattin impalas |
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slanging rocks, man, it don't stop, |
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keeping the glock up in the cut cuz niggas know i, get sho' stopped |
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for yo bread, niggas drop dead, of hot lead, |
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"shot him up" that's what the cops said, a code red |
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call the muthafuckin ambulance, |
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could've ran but then again he never had a chance, |
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for soul chasing... |
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(chorus x4) |