| I run with crooks that be in Donald Goines books
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| Thugs selling drugs up on blocks, cops and lady looks
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| Ain’t nothing pretty in my city that’s shitty
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| My man’s was running round up on the Isle, he caught a buck fitty
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| To the grill, things are getting ill
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| At times it makes me wanna holla, when I’m down to my last dollar bill
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| We keepin' it real, see, that’s the only way to keep it
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| See I’m a legal drug thug getting Legal Drug Money so peep it
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| Back in the days when we used to hear about the square
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| I heard alotta bodies used to get caught up by shotties there
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| And out in 40 where Ebonishah got killed
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| And I be like playing cuz it feel
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| So much envy, got to kill a man if he comes
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| Fear my path… shout outs to the J wrath
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| And the whole LB staff
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| It’s all right
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| It’s all right
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| It’s all right
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| It’s all right
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| It’s all right, I feel light
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| Smoke and ball every day and night
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| Kill 'em with the Lost Boy crew in the park
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| Ass in the pool and the fools gettin sparked
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| I feel higher, level, nigga, they roll with the devils
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| Spring, I be doing my thing with my crew
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| This is how I do, with the Pretty Ralou
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| And Spigg Nice and Freak, and Mr. Cheeks
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| Rolling dice and ripping up concretes
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| I’m like coming in the winter where the sun and the shine
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| I’m the brightest star, niggas ask who are you
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| I’m Freaky Tah, that’s who I am
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| I be bugging cuz I don’t give a damn
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| Chilling with my niggas, I’m quick to pull triggers
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| And get to get biggest, copping up all the figures
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| Listen when I come into it, all right
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| I be bugging up, blowing like dynomite
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| Just chill and relax, don’t tax
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| Lost Boyz in the back
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| Yo, one-two, you find a place to really run to
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| When it’s on, so welcome into my zone
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| It’s Dex coming into your home
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| And then I, blends in with tones
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| That makes ya knees buckle and numbs ya back bone
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| I’m back from the home of the nappy vagabonds
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| That means I just flew in from Queens
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| To earn my presidents by any means
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| Cuz my third eye and me and my society is firing me
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| You see beef, you can’t defy the G in it’s entirety
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| Aiyo, dred, my soul colide the dead
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| So earning bread, my eyes of though with red’ll bop ya heads up
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| A urban dweller, we creepin' diggin ya cellars at night
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| And it’s all right
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| The microphone I split apart, I be like Moses
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| What you suppose, miss?
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| I be with the fellas puffing L every day of the wake
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| Me, Freaky Tah and Pretty Lou and the Spigg
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| Digging deep down into the grave, I dismiss
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| Any MC who tries to go against this
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| My crew is very thick I reprsent the Van Wyck
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| And 1−3-4 knocking at your fucking door
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| Close your window, I be having baggy jeans, Timberland
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| Boots steel toe, I be getting biz yo
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| Big Dex take a pull of this L
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| So I can go and raise some hell
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| From the back, I will attack
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| Twelve o’clock, exact, wearing black
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| Timberlands and a Phil jacket
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| I be with the niggas and we be causing racket
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| Can’t forget Mark and the B Lover
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| And my nigga Melquan, the don, niggas getting on
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| The fame, I be with the man whos insane
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| Big Henny, shout out to all of my men
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| In the pen, even upstate
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| Niggas pushing weight, niggas pushing weight
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| And bitches… it’s all right
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| Think it to yourself
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| A tear fell from my eye
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| I gots to get wide
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| Niggas got to die, every day
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| Another, another, another
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| Niggas take cover with the new shit
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| That hold nine, got ta ---- |