| South-Sive, the young Don
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| You motherfucking right, I’m back man
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| H-A-W-K, my motherfucking big brother
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| This for the late great Fat Pat
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| DJ Screw baby, you did it
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| You started this monster man, ha-ha
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| We did that, just to prove a point
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| When we in the vocal booth, we’ll crash the joint
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| Another callabo, reaching for mo' do'
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| Geeking and spitting flow, teaching a weak hoe
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| Let me go, I drop raps a mile a minute
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| Done six hundred thousand, local and independent
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| Boys see me flow, but they can’t see me do'
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| Cutting out the middle man, when you the CEO
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| I mash and get crunk, and do it for Corey Blunt
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| Take a two week trip, throw fifty up out the trunk
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| Mastermind, take it to another level
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| Basically I’m saying, that I’m platinum in the ghetto
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| Fuck a major deal, we get nine a pop
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| Pressing up seventy thousand, everytime we drop
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| Release six a year, you do the math
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| I’ma stay in the studio, and let you hear the slab
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| We did this, just to let you niggas know
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| (mic check straight wreck, when we come with the flow)
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| Representing, for the S.U.C
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| (coldest lyricists, in the 7−1-3), hey
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| 7−1-3, is the area code
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| 7−45, is how I hog the road
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| 24/7 nigga, I stay blowed
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| And all the hoes say H.A.W.K., is thoed
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| It’s the great one, brother of the late one
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| The straight one, when I bust with this gun
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| Don’t hate son, cause the flow is polish
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| Never went to college, but still blessed with knowledge
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| Never had a major deal, and don’t even want it
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| I just flex my skill, and crush my opponent
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| However you want it, I bring it hard to the rack
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| And y’all must forgot, I got platinum placks
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| And that’s a fact, the next best thing to crack
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| To hear one of my songs, you gotta ring it back
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| Rewind that shit, get off in your mind and shit
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| The kid is sick, and I love the way he spit
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| We spit this rap, and drive this map
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| Then I kick this flow, and go for mo'
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| Then I let you niggas know, that I don’t play
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| Smoke this light green, everyday
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| I’m on my way, me and my nigga Big Hawk-y
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| Across the water, alert the Nextel walkie
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| Young Don, and they just can’t see
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| Another cold nigga, from the 7−1-3
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| Ke hit me on the walkie, so I hit him back
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| Did you hear what we did, to that Worm track
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| We did that, boys better back on back
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| Or I’ll react, and dominate just like Shaq
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| H.A.W.K. |
| and the Don, really we don’t barre none
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| We the shit, and y’all mo’fuckers the runs
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| Here we come, so y’all better move around
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| It’s the 7−1-3, bout to shut shit down |