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Shit, pass the clubs it over here |
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Fuck, damn, yeah nigga thought it was soft |
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Get the fuck up nigga, no doubt |
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Niggas got napolean down |
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Gassed their whole scene |
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[napolean] |
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Yo, trial of the century, nosy bitches came from 50 states |
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Fans walked in with ten video tapes |
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I'mma wipped out, scored with these cats for three years |
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Ripped on em, now that fat cat livin in fear |
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Yo cream dun, grow into this dangerous hitman |
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Took both families out for a hundred grand |
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Right hand man, curly haired kid from the alles |
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With bubbled eyed benzes, diamond laced medallions |
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Murder plots, target it to what this fat cat from miami, |
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Who flexed gold just on his lex |
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But on one night, threw rec poison on his eye sight |
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Two hundred stitches required, for metal spikes |
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He survived though, but snitched like sammy grivana |
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Game info about this chick named tiwanna |
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Who test about killin and needle, shootin villains |
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Underground stash location with six million |
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To take, revail straight mafia shit |
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Phillipino chick licked coke right off his dick |
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He paid the judge off, but still got assassinated |
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Stretched out like pussy wounds that dialeted |
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Murder cases, some foul and some fixed |
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Wu-syndicate, we never leave finger prints |
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Chorus- myalansky |
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Tonight we gonna murder, can't leave no fingerprints |
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Twist the silencer off, myalansky, napolean |
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Call my man joe mafia, suit up we goin in |
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Shisty can't leave no traces and shit |
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We barkin here |
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[joe mafia] |
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We in the crime scenes, straight shoot out |
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Who thugged his back out? i can't see him |
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One of the cats shot the lights out |
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Bacup, pick the gat up, myalansky |
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I can't see gotti, cover me we gotta shut this shit down dun |
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Turn around son, blow we bust one |
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So close it almost touched him |
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You aight son? i got this |
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He wanna jam son dun, you cop this? |
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They trying to leave a nigga rockless |
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When he came into the spot though |
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Watching polio get dough |
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They flashed the fo-fo, heads barricated the door |
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We made our way out, with the flame out |
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With x amount, and the crack house stayin on point |
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Who thugged his back out? |
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Chorus |
|
[myalansky] |
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Tonight nigga, then's when we gettin them, said to napolean |
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Meet with joe mafia first, and then we rollin in |
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Once again, same routine, twist on the silencers |
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Shh! there go them niggas, come on let's follow them |
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Pollyin, uppin at lex within the prodigy |
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You fuck with that rep with that theme, whole town watchin him |
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Damn that bitch fed as shit yo, pass the binoculars |
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Now we gettin back in the car, forget we droppin them |
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Pull up on the side of his whip and starting sparkin him |
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Silencers on three fresh mats, no one was watchin kid |
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Though we never forget their ass |
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Stash the burners, no fingerprints |
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No rust say shit, routine, go head |
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Chorus |