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Y'all think a ******* playing? |
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Don't let me have to lace you up |
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Verse 1: Guilty Simpson |
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I'm jumping in the game head first |
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and make the TEC jerk |
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To cancel your network |
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You feminine cats catch a bad one |
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My gun gon' be there poking that ass with Magnums |
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I spar with the best |
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Just the first of my litter |
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come see the scars on my chest |
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We savage |
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Ill style with extra static |
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Before you talk ************, you better know the hearts of the *******s you walk with |
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This ain't no slap on the wrist ************, this sick ************ |
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Homicidal energy, something to empty clips with |
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Negative, gutter |
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This is what you want, this is what you get |
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Take it in the brain mother****** |
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This ain't no slap on the wrist ************, this sick ************ |
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Homicidal energy, something to empty clips with |
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Negative, gutter |
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This is what you want, this is what you get |
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Take 'em in the brain mother****** |
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It's the filth, the flawn |
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The flawn, the filth |
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The nights with the pimps |
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The cars |
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The hard hitters, the giants |
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Cats preparing for they last days like it's J2K |
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But they way too late |
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Wrap up a piece |
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Ready to feast |
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Maybe they'll save you a plate |
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We out to take over your radio waves |
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Nowadays I don't do it for the mics |
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Cause they pay for them things |
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******* up letting J in the game |
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Wait to aim it and bang |
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Guilt |
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Yeah, and this ain't the slap on the wrist ************ |
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This big ************ |
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Somethin to smack a ************ with |
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Givin' you what you want |
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Twistin' it up to take it to the head mother****** |
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Verse 3: Guilty Simpson |
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Extended families, my brotherhood |
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Catch 'em in the face like a heavyweight with no guard |
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Pardon me as I bogart |
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I outthink the average, but equally savage |
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Send the generals of your roster |
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I send 'em back in a sack |
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Murder minister counter reacts and launches attacks |
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Ten branches, ten nooses |
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Ten necks, ten TECs and ten shooters |
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Black booters, late night intruders |
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You ever seen a panther maneuver? |
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I'm even smoother, guy |
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You might lose your eye |
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Either way you choose you die |
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River rules, July the fourth |
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Slidin' off and fire the horse |
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.45 colt, *******s scatter from thunderous lightning bolts |
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Rewrite your notes and recite them jokes |
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You like to quote |
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I ice your throat |
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After that I'll slice your throat |
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With the same razor use to slice the ****** |
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Not by me |
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But I know those types of folks |
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I never could put the firearm down |
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That's why everything I do stresses Mom now |
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Verse 4: J Dilla & Guilty Simpson |
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First name J, Last name |
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Deezy |
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Here to change the game, playa, please believe me |
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A cake boy 'til my heart stops pumping |
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Mission complete when y'all *******s mouths stop runnin' |
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Last name Simpson, the first name guilty |
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Taking the game further than most of you *******s will be |
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A dread-narc 'til my heart stops pumpin' |
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Destined for greatness when these A&R stop frontin' |