[JT]
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We on our third song, we on our third song, heyyeyy
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You understand it, I'm official with mine; I'm double-clutchin
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on the fo'-wheel, pushin quarters like niggaz doin dope deals
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Fo' cut 50 like a verse and a half
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I cut the brick and now we countin the math, we 'bout that birdplay
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My crew's committed, you dudes gon' get it
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Have a seat you through when I'm finished, my troopers is fitted
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Got 'em posted out in Brooklyn, Hollis Queens to the Bridge
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We in the studio the Figgaro done did it again
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We got factors out in the ditch where they smackin a bitch
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I got homies out in the Bronx where they bustin at cops
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It ain't no game with the underground, came from the underground
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Pushin a hundred thousand, we out the trunk, never browsin
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JT, another boss from the Bay
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And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, what'chu say nigga?
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JT, another boss from the Bay
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And rest in peace to my boy Mac Dre, motherfucker
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[Nina B]
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Hey yo it seem to me like e'rybody got they own truth
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Believe me I'm in them sheets like phonebooths
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I play the game I was born to score
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But I'm a lil' too cute for them corner stores
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A little too, known, to stand on the block
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And a lil' too eager to sit in the spot
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Mami, I'm from the Eastside, yup yes that side
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Heads fly if I open ya chest that wide
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Gimme a bad vibe end up on ya backside
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Or you can get your back and side splatted in back of ya ride
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And I can make it happen, if I don't make it rappin
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This lump of Satan I'm packin thrash 'em with a major passion
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I slash ya face and fracture you flashin in the latest fashion
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And have you dashin from Manhattan all the way to Aspen
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Your shit is whack, heard your tape and had to take an aspirin
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Step ya game up
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[instrumental break]
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[unknown Get Low male]
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Listen, before I get up in the mornin I ask the Lord for strength
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Tryin to get my niggaz out the hood, you know how the forces get
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It's like the devil got a hold of my neck
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And I'm gettin this change runnin 'round reppin my set
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Momma used to look at me funny; she could tell her baby boy changed
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Must be out there gettin some money
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But it's a price for everything, you know how the game go
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For them birds niggaz'll cock back the calico
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Now you introduced to the beef, what'chu gon' do now?
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Bitch up, skid in your crib, or pull them tools out?
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A lot of niggaz is real, a lot of niggaz is fake
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A lot of niggaz shake your hand and shake hands with Jake
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[another Get Low male]
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Fuck what'chu heard, I startled your brain
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I hit the spot like a {?} in ballers and jeans
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On some eighty-eight shit, more "Raw" than Kane
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It's not my fault she looked at me - you better talk to your dame
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That's just, part of the game and you got served
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Who got nerve cause Lethal hard like Tupac words
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And, why y'all Chucks always actin like tough guys
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You must be trippin or you slippin on mudslides
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And in the hood you see it's different from one time
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What's your bloodline, play the strip to the sunshine
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And I don't even know why I'm wastin my breath
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I oughta be like Makaveli and be fakin my death
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I keep that good shit it's tastin so fresh
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And all y'all sloppy Joe niggaz yo y'all makin a mess
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We on the way to yo' nap, so put your tapes in the deck
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And spit in a hundred bars straight without breakin a sweat
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-----------------
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Krush Groove
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The Game |