[Intro: Sheek Louch]
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Where my hood at?
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Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?
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Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front
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And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt
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[Styles P]
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(Ghost!) Money green, weed green, hood black, heart black
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And never let 'em see where you live, where you park at
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Never let 'em know how you get it just squash that
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Never let the beef ride long, go squash that
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You can shoot it out, or go and peace it up
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If we was in jail I would make you give your sneakers up
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Cause I'm a loyalist, and I spray shit
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The 44 make niggaz look like crawfish
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Cause you seafood, so go on sleep with 'em
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I don't trust no niggaz, I don't eat with 'em
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Matter fact, I'ma keep it street with 'em
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I don't like his style, I don't even speak with him
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I keep it G from the get-go
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Real go-getter, and I let my shit blow
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You don't wanna get your shit broke
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I got the hawk, you don't wanna get your shit broke
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[Chorus: Sheek Louch]
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Where my hood at?
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Where them red and blue flags, where that good at?
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Where them vanillas? Where that sticky?
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Where my right hand man with the blicky?
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Somebody tell them hood rats to come up front
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And let the club know I'ma smoke my blunt
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Bitch!! This ain't Gucci, this ain't Prada
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This street shit I'm fuckin with them niggaz say "nada"
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[Sheek Louch]
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Hey yo it's never gon' be another
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Shocked the world with the half face gorilla cover
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Clip on top of each other, now e'rybody wanna listen to the G
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Funny I'm on the plane watchin "Get Him to the Greek"
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Twenty thousand when I land just to listen when I speak
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Bully, he in my will somewhere, he like to eat
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"I Get High," high like P's song (AYYYYY!)
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That's why my shades on, used to be in love with Nia Long
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Donny ain't around now I'll talk 'bout Viet Cong
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That's means more bitches more haters on my song
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But I don't go back and forth, me no ping-pong
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Donny at your door like Avon, DING-DONG!
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Yeah, me and my E hawk
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Pop them things off on your block then later we pop klikko
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Hah! Amazing ain't it?
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If you can paint a bigger picture, well go 'head and pain it
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Geyeah
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[Chorus]
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[Styles P]
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Geyeah, bang like them white boys in mosh pits
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Hach-too spit on your favorite rapper, he's not shit
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... My catalogue is colossus
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Blunt for the prelude, one for the process
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Perform with a swarm of fully loaded objects
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Make it clearer than Podus ring
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I'm reachin for my phone cause I hear it before it ring
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I'm reachin for my gun cause I hear it before it ring
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... In the hood, I'm a muse
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Phantom that's verbal, demolition in the booth
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Slicker than the oil that you get at the masseuse
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Chrome thing with the conehead in the goose
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Addin in the Coupe, subtractin what I shoot
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Get in with a axe and some matches and a noose
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You have no idea, on the havoc I produce
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'til it's way too late, the brain matter's on your shoes
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[Chorus]
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[Outro: Sheek]
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Geyeah
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-----------------
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Street Shit
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Styles P |