| What, what
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| What, what, what
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| What, what, what
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| (All Out)
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| What, what, what, what, what
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| (Take it back to the streets, mutha fucka)
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| What, what, what, what, what
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| Yo, this for my niggas in the streets
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| (What what what what)
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| Foreign cars and the jeeps
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| (What what what what)
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| Make about a fuckin' million in a week
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| (What what what what)
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| When I can’t forget that we all still street
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| Yo, yo
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| You know a nigga that’s sniffin', that’s always in the kitchen
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| Bagin' shit up, there’s always something missin'
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| A nigga that’s speeding, bound to have a collision
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| Bound to be in prison, or bound to pop a mission
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| So if you got dogs, nigga, let 'em go
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| If a mob fuckin' truck right, let 'em know
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| We got the same guns that you got, but better though
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| And next time we in some shit nigga, you will know
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| See I’m pushed to the point that I put something down
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| And I stand over your head, like look at you now
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| And the kids in the parks start lookin' around
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| Like, «Mommy come here, look, look, look what we found»
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| Wit' me it’s more intense, nigga
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| So if you ain’t goin' hard, stay on the bench, nigga
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| And you know when I come, I leave no prints nigga
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| And when you die, it won’t be at my expense nigga
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| Nigga, nigga
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| — Yo, you ain’t as smart as you think
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| And I know you ain’t as smart as you think
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| (Take it back to the streets)
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| You talk crazy on the phone, bring niggas to your home
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| Hey yo, you ain’t as smart as you think
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| (Take it back to the streets)
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| Hey yo, you ain’t as smart as you think
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| And I know you ain’t as smart as you think
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| (Take it back to the streets)
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| You leave a thug wit' a hoe and you think you on the low
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| Hey yo, you ain’t as smart as you think
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| Yo, yo
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| Not only do I know the rights, I know the wrongs
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| Mo' money, mo' bitches, yeah, you know the song
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| And if you claim you a nigga that know me long
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| And you should know I’mma die with my Rolley on
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| I ain’t no punk, I ain’t no chump, I ain’t no whimp
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| Ain’t got no cane, ain’t got no ming, ain’t got no limp
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| Money exempt, instead you niggas are blimp
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| And every bitch in every state know Mase is the pimp
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| See I’m unlike the ones who fail you, when I know where you
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| Live, I’mma send my kid to take care of you
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| I’ll bring it to my man if he try to spare you
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| I’d tie something up if I wanted to scare you
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| Make it where your own shadow won’t stand near you
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| And they send the trauma unit to come repair you
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| Now there you are nigga, in the fuckin' reservoir
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| With your Bentley, we don’t give a fuck about your car
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| Who you are
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| Yo, yo
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| You can’t never love a man so much you can’t doubt him
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| Let him know certain shit you gotta do without him
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| And if ya got guns, don’t leave home without it
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| You gon' kill a man, there’s ways to go about it
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| See I never kill a man, and I do it vainly
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| I won’t ever let a mutha fucka know I’m angry
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| Cuz when I get caught and they come arraign me
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| It be a surprise witness that come to hang me
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| I figure, if I’mma do it, I’mma do it my way
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| Set 'em on Sunday, have 'em by Friday
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| Then Sunday, I’mma meet 'em on the highway
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| See where his exit is and keep it movin'
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| Monday I’m off the exit
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| All I wanna find out is where the complex is
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| And by Tuesday I’m sittin' in the complexes
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| All I wanna find out is where the address is
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| And by Wednesday, it just so happen you get shot in the knee
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| A nigga tried to run away and dropped the key
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| Now you in the hospital, not critical
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| Frontin', makin' a scene, bring the whole block wit' you
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| Friday hit and you ain’t got no clique wit' you
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| Need somebody help you with your leg, got your bitch wit' chu
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| Soon as you get home and put the key in the door
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| Click, clack, now get on the floor, I told you nigga |