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Chucks to gators, great to greater |
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Quit the bullshit to make the paper |
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Who said a gangster can't be a banker |
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Ya gotta make ya money in large amounts |
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Shut ya mouth, you ain't spittin no dolla signs |
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You ain't talkin bout swallowin mine |
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When the mic turned on, |
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Slink Capone for the job'cuz you know |
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I'm fully qualified |
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A lotta niggaz wanna know what it takes to make |
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The pretty bitches sell they bodies from state to state |
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You all caught up in the hype like |
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Wayne Loc say |
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Try the shit again, 'cuz it ain't yo day |
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You wanna dive in head first, but you don't know the game |
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Now they got you for ya scratch and ya |
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Rolex chain |
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Even if ya leakin out a hole in the brain |
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Motherfucker, you still better throw them thangs |
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Nationwide is the clique, and we supply the funk |
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Snatch a hatin ass punk and make him ride in the trunk |
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Ain't no denyin us, we the livest |
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And we never let the muthafuckin iron rust |
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Anybody wanna get served, line up |
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And if you ridin with us, get behind us |
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Slink Capone, |
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Murda One, |
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Playa Playa on that ass |
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Get the cash, see in platinum we trust, nigga what??? |
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I put a punk bitch in a chokehold for trippin |
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Intervenin on my |
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Crippin and we known for dippin |
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Don't try to clown and get caught up in the wrong position |
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Ya hard head, what you think you too grown to listen |
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Only GOD really knows how long we livin |
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Unforgiven, but our acts be hunger driven |
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Growin up in the city, made some wrong decisions |
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But $hort plugged me in, now |
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I'm on precision |