| Man, I hate quotin' Jay Z, but cuz just too tight
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| Is he a Blood? |
| Is he Crip? |
| Is he that? |
| Is he this?
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| Will he do it? |
| You know, it!
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| Now every time I say «it» it’s in reference to my dick
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| You can suck it if you want to
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| Every time I say «it» it’s in reference to my dick
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| And you can suck it, motherfuckin' bitch!
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| Listen, bitch!
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| When it’s in you the sentiment is incredible
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| Winter fresh even, I even undress your winter clothes
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| When it’s out, instead of worryin' about where it’s at
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| You’d rather rack your cap
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| About where it’s goin' or where it’s been
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| Where are we goin'? |
| I’m beginning to see an end
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| Don’t bring Larry King in this
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| Sniff the evidence on my clothes and go through my cell phone
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| And now I’m in jail for leavin' out a few details, oh well
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| It’s wifey or WiFi (Ayy!)
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| Wifey or WiFi (Ayy!) wifey or WiFi
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| Got some niggas in the pen that really gotta face time
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| She just bitching ‘cause I missed her FaceTime
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| It’s wifey or WiFi (Ayy!)
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| Wifey or WiFi (Ayy!) wifey or WiFi
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| Got some niggas really havin' issues in the cell
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| She just bitching ‘cause them other bitches in my cell
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| Oh well, oh well
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| I guess she wanna go to war then
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| I guess we should warn the warden
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| Oh well, oh well
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| Alright, I want you to tweet me right now
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| If you’re using your third iPhone
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| It’s wifey or WiFi, wifey or WiFi
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| Wifey or WiFi, hey, hey
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| It’s wifey or WiFi, wifey or WiFi
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| Wifey or WiFi, oh well, oh well
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| Oh well, oh well
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| Oh, I hit you with the hash back
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| Ayy, my nigga lil' Riley got into it with his mommy
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| They be fightin' all the time, so I ain’t pay it no mind
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| He said: «God, she could really be the Devil,» I said «Chill!»
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| He smacked his teeth
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| And shook his head and said «No, for real!
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| You know I love her, but she could really be a pain in the ass
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| Matter fact, fuck that! |
| Pull out your jack real fast!
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| Real shit, my nigga, now glance at the keypad
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| This that mind-bogglin' shit you like to throw in your raps
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| And this might be your best yet; |
| notice how every number
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| Represents three letters of the alphabet
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| Like, 2 is A-B-C, 3 is D-E-F
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| 4 is G-H-I,» I said: «I get it, alright!»
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| He said: «Now trip off this, listen to me, Soul
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| I know you off the shits, but I’ma need you to get a grip.»
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| I said: «Be serious,» he said «Dial M-O-M.»
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| What a hella coincidence! |
| It was 6−6-
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| Pt. |
| II: P.M.S
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| All because of this penitentiary mind state, is it my fate?
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| For God’s sakes, why did I have to lose the case?
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| I kept it real, and I ain’t never been fake
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| I’m feelin' like Biggie when he lost Faith
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| See, this penitentiary mind state, is it my fate?
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| For God’s sakes, why did I have to lose the case?
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| I kept it real, and I ain’t never been fake
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| I’m feelin' like Biggie when he lost Faith
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| Look, there’s sixty seconds left, I’ma have to get back later
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| Your boy chasin' this penitentiary paper
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| Tell my momma stay on point
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| Your phone hit her on three-way
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| Then, fuck it, I’ma hit her on that other joint
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| First term, nigga, but I did it like a vet
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| Hung up the phone, and when I asked: «Who had next?»
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| It was one of the lifers, all nest with no neck
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| Gotta stay with my striker, no nigga is no threat
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| I swipe my knife on the under
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| But I can still hear it in my head
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| When he said: «That's right, youngster
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| Just stay focused, sleep with your hands open
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| Beat 'em with a long-handled spoon
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| When you deal with smokers.»
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| I sag low when I walk the yard, hold my head high
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| Yaddada to them Bay niggas; |
| me, I’m from the Westside
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| Lookin' for a gram to steal, ‘cause I’m tryin' to get high
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| Thinkin' about my fake-ass bitch on the outside
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| Out of sight, out of mind, shit, I don’t mind
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| Long as a nigga make the paper when he doin' time
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| Right, look… fuck it, I’m lyin', I’m just really tryin' to hold out
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| Thought of some trick runnin' dick in my bitch mouth
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| My penitentiary mind state, is it my fate?
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| For God’s sakes, why did I have to lose the case?
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| I kept it real, and I ain’t never been fake
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| I’m feelin' like Biggie when he lost Faith
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| Look, look, hold up, hold up! |