Yeah, Attic Crew, Attic Crew and Cooley C my nigga
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Yeah, yeah, my nigga, its Attic Crew and Cooley C my nigga
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Yeah, Youngbloodz, Youngbloodz and Cooley C my nigga
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Um, Mark Twayne
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Now it's time to let y'all nigga know about me
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Oh I can get mo money, mo money, don't come to me
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And everything I say that be on the blow
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Rap for the love of money, stack it up once mo'
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Going once, going twice, got the O for the LOW
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Got my cheese in the soil, tryin' to make my flow grow
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Hell no, never fall off
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Slip pimpin', you can get it hard or get it soft
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All day, round the clock tryin' to get it in
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I ain't worried bout' the rich, cause I'm in the wind
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All I got is my folks, Lord forgive me for my sins
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And if this ain't for me, please make me thank again
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Gotta get my shit right, tight like these gurls draws
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Let me recognize the game, and all the flaws
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While I'm out here, please let me come up
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And watch my every step so I don't have to duck
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Never wanted this, damn how a nigga stuck?
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Hit me on the hill nigga, I'm a' sack it up
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Rabbit on my head all day for good luck
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On the hustle everyday, but who really gives a fuck
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[hook]
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So what you got, when you ain't got nothing to show
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Thangs movin' slow, can't get your hands on no blow
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Ain't got no flow, naw, need some quick cash
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If hustlin' is the answer nigga, get up off your ass
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I walk about the crib, with my mind on the dough
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Been hustlin' these verses, ain't got a damn thang to show
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I keep my head up, because I feel it's bout to pop
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Done heard about a deal going down at the dock
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Critics say it don't stop, til' you get it and it's gone
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It's all about the fett', set it off, get it crunk
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You catch me on the corner, I'll be buddy with the sacks
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Off in the studio it be Twayne with the tracks
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Fire, fire, like that dope gettin' smoked everyday
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Got a call from my source, he on the way with the llell' (yeah)
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Coming in from overseas, bout' 82 ki's
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Not a word to be said, everybody hit your knees, lets leave
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Get the cheese, make away with the blow
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Slip in the door, right before we do the show
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Mr. Dope Man, your looking kinda sick
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Thangs movin' slow now that you ain't got shit
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[hook]
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So what you got now, you out of luck
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Sellin' your soul to the devil, just to make a quicker buck
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But for what, you took a chance, recieving half of some blow
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And pushing them quarter ki's underground to keep the flow
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It's toe to toe, we can take it to the deepest of the seas
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And anybody else who wanna bite, then try a piece
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Of these Youngbloodz, bustin' 30 slugs, so just perhaps
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You crawlin' out of a shell
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Finding ways up out these traps
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Like craps, you out to gamble, losing everything you own
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And still like to pretend as if this game gonna keep em' known
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And do know, you in a ball of burning hell
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So might as well take a ride on the weed into the A-T-L
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And niggas swear we outdone and out-gunned
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So what's the first attempt when they got you on the run
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With fun, they shootin' tons of shots, so whose to blame
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Nobody but yourself as you hold inside the pain
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[hook]
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-----------------
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Thangs Movin' Slow
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Youngbloodz |