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(DJ Paul talking with gunshots in background) |
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Yeah, run bitch. Run hoe! Ya nice motherfuckas! |
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Y'all jealous ass bitches! |
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You know what I'ma call y'all? Some Jello niggas. |
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Cuz y'all jealous of us, bitch. |
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Every motherfucker in our camp ridin clean, nigga. |
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Y'all know the motherfuckin score. |
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And this one right here is dedicated to you (censor beep). |
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It's dedicated to you, nigga. |
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(Chorus: DJ Paul)x1 |
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They wanna dress like |
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Wanna sound like |
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Wanna be like |
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Ride like |
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Get high like |
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Make cheese like |
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The motherfuckin Three 6, bitch you got a problem wit em? |
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The motherfuckin Three 6, hoe you got a problem wit em? |
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(Lord Infamous) |
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I'm from the part of Tennessee called SPV, Spray Pesty Varments |
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Catch ya busta boy, I beat em; blow em up outta his dorments |
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Punk ass niggas be tryin ta stick a light up under me, like some ornaments |
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Don't make me grab the case that's fulla the weapons and hand ya ?the bombing? |
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Bitch ya killin me, besta be eatin some porridge, you got some courage |
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Punk motherfucker don't make me go get that there uzi up under the storage |
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Bitches, bloody Satan waiting ??? |
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Armageddon soldiers comin to ??? |
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(Crunchy Black) |
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You trying to be like me, you can't be like me |
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It's hard ta be me, like them stunts on TV, g |
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You see me, hustlin, workin my muscle-in |
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Puttin my 2 cents where it can be trusted-n |
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You musta been a silly fool |
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Thinkin you could wear my shoes, damn fool |
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I walked a mile, I hauked em down |
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I understand now, why everybody don't wanna frown |
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(Chorus x2) |
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(DJ Paul) |
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1 thousand: Your kid kidnapped and fucked in the mouth |
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2 G's: Wife never seen again, but nothin to brag about |
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3 thousand: Car blown up, house burnt to the ground |
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4 G's: Run up in ya weak ass show, lettin off rounds |
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5 thousand: Best friend found naked and decapitated |
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6 G's: Yo broke ass barried alive cuz yo ass hated |
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7 G's: He ain't even workin, I kill a nigga myself, dead |
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Catch em in tha haven put somethin hot up in his head |
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(Juicy J) |
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I'm real from the junt (junt) |
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Never was a punk (punk) |
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North Memphis bound bitch, buck ass hell and crunk (crunk) |
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You might catch me deep (deep) |
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On your fuckin street (street) |
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Buckin wit the tech-9, sweep you off yo feet (feet) |
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Drankin on that liquour (liquor) |
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Chillin wit my niggas (niggas) |
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Hangin on the corner, wit a fuckin rusty pistol (pistol) |
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Step up to me hoe (hoe) |
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When you on that blow (blow) |
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I'ma (gunshots: pop pop pop, pop) till you hit tha flo (flo) |
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(Chorus x2) |
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(Koopsta Knicca) |
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Ahhhhh! |
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Please don't test the wrist or steel this |
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Waitin for she tell, pop, every style mystic |
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Pimp shit, hits never miss those red |
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Settin you a miss, when I spray the AK |
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Plus I flex-a hella gay, will you catch a boy? |
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Ever since a boy, always had black toy |
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So we ain't goin out, no punk, I'm knockin out y'all |
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Dead body, froze, ?hard puss in my jaw? |
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(Gangsta Boo) |
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Well all them hoes that used to be down with me |
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I signed a deal, made some money, now you bitches downin me? |
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Bitches tryin ta blast at me, |
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or am I dreamin the motherfuckers be after me? |
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Why you tryin ta be like me? You labelled as a wanna-be. |
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You ghetto hoes, you need to read up on this Gangsta Boo |
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Cuz you might find a tip, bitch, that can help you. |
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I'm a down chick |
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Niggas be wantin ta crown chick |
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Stay around chick |
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Whenever, however, it's goin down, bitch. |
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(Chorus x2) |