You see me, you know that I'm on my Deen
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Down to get down anytime by any means
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Known to be OT, reppin on any scene
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And all about the paper, we stackin up plenty green
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From my city to your city, it's all the same
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These hoes disrespectin, they callin you out your name
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These niggaz lookin for work, there's guarantee to lock
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Put they dope up in they sock, then head out to the block
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These snitches wearin G uniforms to blend in
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Yeah we know you one of the ones Feds gon' send in
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Got caught, out of town, lookin at a dime
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So you wanna give other niggaz ya time
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And here's the new plan, they cut the dope way before you can
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By the time you get it, you like what the fuck to do man?
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You better be a certified chef
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Or your whole sellers fittin to go left to the death
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And street niggaz ain't got receipts so
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They fittin to try to sleep yo ass on the d-low
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Ridin like Deebo, comin like Carter
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You rollin like Marsellus Wallace, we roll harder
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Start a situation and we bring it to the end
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So take a memo motherfucker, send it to a friend
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Then send it to your kin or whoever care
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'Cause when we come, we takin out whoever there
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Yeah, real talk, this is real nigga attitude
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Bring it your face, give me longitude and latitude
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Better show me some gratitude
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Or I'm a show you why God himself ain't never made a badder dude
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Then the one standin in front of you
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Bitch you know what I'm a do and don't call me B, this Mr. Bun to you
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Motherfucker fix ya grammar
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The next time you call a nigga bamma, you better have a hammer
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And I ain't talkin 'bout all that nail shit
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I'm talkin 'bout they poppin off and makin you bail shit
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We ride like Amtrak cross country
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You badder bitch? Then come in front and try to chump me
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Ah shit, ding, ding goes the bell
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That's the sign that ya bitch ass is fittin to take a L
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Don't give it to ya homeboy, take it for yourself
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And after I give it to ya, you can take it and tell
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And put in on ya Facebook wall
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And let your friends see, how a trill nigga took y'all and shook y'all
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Stompin like a nigga that's ten foot tall
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But don't trip it's just a friendly game of football
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Hold up and I'm the Super Bowl quarterback
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But yo bitch ass? You ain't even much a starter jack
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Go ahead and take ya team to the showers
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When we done with the trophy bitch, you can have ours
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'Cause we packin more power
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And bound to make ya stop, drop and roll like the fuckin Twin Towers
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Hours on the clock goin by like seconds
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When you in the middle of a chin check and I wreck it
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With real live thugs at my beck and call
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They won't find no trouble disrespectin y'all
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So you bound to fall, somebody yell "timber!"
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You fuckin with the down South King, call me Simba
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And remember, who the fuck ya talkin to
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Or you'll see the pearly gates you'll be walkin through, fool
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Untitled Flow (58 Bars)
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Bun B |