| I went through with the plan, now the man sendin’me grams,
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| My coke organization still infestin’the land,
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| No joke, built my Mama an estate in the Bahamas,
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| Crops of marijuana protected by Big Timers,
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| Hand, full of ice, it’s gangsta’s paradise,
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| Expensive merchandise, I had to sacrifice for the glamourous life,
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| Don P. for breakfast, Benz, stretches, and Lexus,
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| Distribution of coke from Louisiana to Texas,
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| Some fabricated, but fascinated by the way that I made it,
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| Now my name is implicated with the greatest
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| Wearin’the latest, leather fatigues and B.B.H.,
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| Brand new Mercedes, parked in front of my new estate,
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| Twelve o’clock we gave him, caviar, is what we ate,
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| Party with killas, paraphrenalia full of projects,
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| Dope snorters or prospects, the rob your shop necks,
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| But I gets pissed and send hits, don’t fuck with my shit
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| Wig split, the heel, whoever he roll with,
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| Admit it, you did it, tongue too tied? | 
| Well say somethin'
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| Nine’s bustin', bringin’your platoon to destruction,
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| Continue to hustlin', givin’up nothin’where the dope at?
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| Crackers can get the Bauds at, because I’m pro Black,
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| Think I’m a foreigner, he wasn’t holdin’up his side of his deal,
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| Alien gotta be killed, sent to the coroner,
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| I’m sure he would have gone before the judge
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| With somethin’concrete, to send me, cuz
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| He was holdin’a grudge, fuckin’over a thug,
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| Told my bitch I want him dead,
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| Bring me his head, fill him with lead,
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| Heard what I said? | 
| Don’t betray me,
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| I’ll put you on the streets and make you weak,
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| With carrots and stones up on fingers and your teeth,
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| And built you a home next to the beach,
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| And luxury cars we creep
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| Here’s the nine, I don’t have time, make it discreet
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| Money on the couch, nigga
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| Gimme everything, I’ll pay your house, nigga
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| Shut’cha mouth, nigga
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| Put the money on the couch, nigga
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| Gimme everything, I’ll pay your house, nigga
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| Shut’cha mouth, nigga
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| Put the money on the couch shut’cha mouth, nigga
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| Second Verse:
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| I know that my cousin Lil’Kerzaw,
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| He sold up outta his backyard,
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| And sold up shit, from the seventeen all the way up to the Ninth Ward,
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| You know he rolls up in the caddy,
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| It’s about that time to go roasts and vogue,
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| I’ma go on the passenger side, fuckin’with every last hoe,
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| Nigga Russ was up in that car shop,
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| Ready to get all the seats fixed,
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| Let me go scope me a kneefit, so I can go out to the Freaknik,
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| Shit, I’m the lyrical genius,
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| Drop down on your knees to the penis,
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| The nigga be talkin’the shit about my family, but I never did seen it
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| I’m larger than large, if you came home with two heroin charges,
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| And I still got somethin’stashed in the garages,
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| Y’all is petty, it’s gone take two to fill my stamina,
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| When I pass the camera, flash, fuck the amateurs,
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| Ya better be top notch, or I’ma cock my rhyme glock,
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| To wound ya, and paint your death with my autograph on your tumor,
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| Third Verse:
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| I’m straight from the ghetto, the Mac they make the foes shake,
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| Then I left that spot and I went to the T, where the triflin’hoes play,
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| They comin’to me and, they blowin’that funky fire,
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| I’m grabbin’a beer and, them blunts be gettin’me higher,
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| Due to my clique I walked to the front door,
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| Hope it ain’t them po-po's,
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| I looked through the blinds, it went through my mind,
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| What I have to run for?,
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| Nobody would want to test me,
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| Especially comin’to arrest me,
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| Old body and soul, it’s a must I leave you cold,
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| Keep it chilly chilly, when I’m jigglin’jigglin’money,
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| Some niggas say okay, but you can say no way,
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| I’m drinkin’for honey,
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| If I wouldn’t be kickin’these rhymes so funky,
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| You and your crew would never have bought my shit like junkies,
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| A part of a ki is all that I need,
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| To get on my feet, up outta the weed,
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| The capital C, I do it for weed, and even a G for slangin’them kis,
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| I’m puttin’in it your face, Juvenile lookin’for a bitch now,
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| Don’t have no time for no foreplay, I’m simply gonna lay this dick down
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| Niggas be comin’with dope lines,
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| Gimme the chance I’ma flow mine,
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| I’m tearin’this bitch up in no time,
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| No fuckin’ya up cuz you know I’m,
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| Funky like a club that’s filled up with fat men fartin',
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| And never a bad thought in my mind, cuz I’m steadily plottin' |