| Keep quiet when you see bosses talkin'
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| Whip with all the horses from the Pyrex under the water faucet
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| And trappin' on the 2nd floor apartment
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| I had a kid, went to jail and came home to my daughter talkin'
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| I clip ya man, you probably call the sergeant
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| 'Cause you a rat they should gave you a flashlight in a corner office
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| You ever try addin' all your losses
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| I’m in the company of slaughterers, kingpins and border crossers
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| I got a dog that call home New Orleans
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| He never watched the Hornets
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| He just cook up work while he boilin' crayfish
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| Marble floors, the toilet stall is porcelain
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| That nigga rich and cheap
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| He feed all his side bitches Boston market
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| This rap shit still a passion in me
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| And I murk everything I’m on
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| So that’s why I brought casket with me
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| Fuck my pops, that’s the bastard in me
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| When it come to stretchin' I’m a professor
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| Hustlers take classes with me
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| Me and my boo in a wide body coupe
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| Nigga, you live by it you gotta die by it too
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| You ain’t never had enough work that you could supply a group
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| So cheap, that everybody and they momma buyin' too, let’s go
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| I got 3 bullets for the hate, 3 bullets for the grudge
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| 3 bullets for the Jakes, 3 bullets for the judge
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| 3 bullets for ya head, I’m aimin' over ya vest
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| I came with 17, I still got 2 bullets left
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| 3 bullets for the hate, 3 bullets for the grudge
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| 3 bullets for the Jakes and 3 bullets for the judge
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| 3 bullets for ya head, I’m aimin' over ya chest
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| I came with 17, I still got 2 bullets left, let’s go |