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(Z-Ro) |
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Let my coedine settle, and have a toast one time |
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Multiplications on my digits, come up over some time |
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3-57 in my spine, they can't hold me like Kobe Bryant |
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Powered up, popping tulips and clovers and stop signs |
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Taylor made, Gucci looking like a million bucks |
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Neck full of gold baggets, and trillion cuts |
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I reside on cuts, cause having money is a must |
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Give me the issue or get touched, the scuffling up |
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Fuck with the raw like a cut, cause I hit too hard |
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Radio stations don't play, cause I spit too hard |
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I know they hate me everyday, and I ain't quit so far |
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But if you cross the line, AK is gone hit your car |
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(Hook) |
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Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the throwdest of them all |
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Cause you know my name, it's Z-Ro the Crooked |
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Z-Ro the Mo City Don, it ain't over it just begun |
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Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the throwdest of them all |
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Cause you know my name, it's Z-Ro represent the third coast |
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Let my codeine settle, and have a toast |
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(Z-Ro) |
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I'm a guerilla that's after the scrilla, I cock glocks |
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I'm the top knotch, body armored like Shaq done blocked shots |
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Dropping cops cause they crooked, I'm the law now |
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Posted on the corner, selling raw now |
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Looking for them people, keep an open eye |
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And if I see the jackers, never hesitate I gotta open fire |
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Active like a live wire, retalliation is a must |
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Rock and buy these bezzels, and then I bust |
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Geniva watch, telling me it's time to ball |
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Get in the line till I make it to the front, and then it's time to fall |
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But if I ever fall off, just fall back behind the scene |
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Take seven, catch me up in sitcoms and big screens |
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(Hook) |
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(Z-Ro) |
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When I roll, I roll one deep |
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I never stop wrecking, these H-Town streets |
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And ain't nobody holding me down I'm a roll, I'm rolling |
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If you didn't know Southside still holding, folding |
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Big lemon faces, got real money cause I catch cases |
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Sipping on skeet tastes, and I'ma lean in private or public places |
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Milicated refreshness, keep my mind at ease |
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Trying to reach another level, keep me climbing trees |
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Coming smoke out my nose, bald faded minus before |
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Keep it gangsta, got groupie hoes striking a pose |
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But see they ain't getting chose, or catch me tipping my dob |
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I need a independent thug chick, launder money and drug shit |
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I'm the boss hog, ain't nobody hogging me over harder |
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Soft then I'm off, in the funk in my roller |
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(Hook - 2x) |