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Intro: Sheek Luchion
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Yeah, what the deal. This is what y'all niggaz been waiting for?
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This is what been waiting for huh? That Kasino shit. L.O.X. shit.
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Oh my God. Flex gonna pump this. Clue gonna pump this.
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Angie Martinez gonna pump this. Ahhh, oh.
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Verse One: Sheek Luchion
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Yo I don't toss it when I pop, I just run up in the spot
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Pour acid on my glock and start burying the pot
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In the back yard, used to have the dead dog I stuffed with G's
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Tell the cops that he died from fleas
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That shit was well planned, but I know when it happens
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When the shit hits the fan, and that nigga be your man
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And get caught red hand with a half a pelican
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What do you do? Don't stall
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Spring him and buy more
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It's the code of the streets
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If your belly ain't the beast
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And you ain't hungry for this cake
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How much you expect to make?
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When I was young I threw parties and had food fights at school
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Whoever came and made it there fresh was cool
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So that taught me
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I started stealing dean's walkie-talkies
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Five cent a chip
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The next month, bought a whip
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Something like, Lucy or Rex, next thing you know
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I'm getting sex from 9th and up, that's living it up
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Not Donald Trump but what, buying pies for the class
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Fifteen buying Hydro in glass
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Way back when
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Only drinking Gin
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Now I'm a Hennessey man, I dealt with many hoes
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Used to pump my fist with Arsenio
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Player hating niggaz that used to rap in all the videos
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That needed to be me
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My click needed to be G
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All up in the game, with bitches riding our train
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And I'm pretty sure my nigga Kasino feeling the same
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Verse Two: Kasino
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Ayo you can't tell me nothing about doing dirt
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Sitting up, six months in the spot, on the block, losing work
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I been there, any part of the game you name
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I done did it, even after Sledge runs in it
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I done copped out, blew trial, done my whole sentence
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Went from no dough, 'til the point when the dough don't grow
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Got too big for them little whips, the door won't close
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Got the big truck, bent up, all over the road
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Remember little Keith, from P.S. 93 with his brothers clothes
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Went from hand me downs, but y'all hear me now
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Don't forget that I'm sober when y'all staring me down
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Got a team of hungry niggaz, that's my family now
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And they get down, there's no lace wearing their browns
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Went from spitting hot lyrics, to spitting a round
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And yo I promise not to act funny
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Loyalty to all them niggaz who react for me
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Handle my gats funny, but for this rap money
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I was three cars deep, and this my pack money
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Eating and learning to act hungry
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>From South Cat country, hustling cane
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I'm like Denzel with a Benzel, he got game
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Verse Three: Styles Paniro
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I swear if I die, don't you dare send me flowers
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If you ain't a friend of ours
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Sucker, they call me S. P. I don't blend with cowards
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I spit Heroin, make y'all niggaz pure dope heads
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Like Tony when he went to kill Frank Lopez
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Top of the world
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Gun cocked, cocking' your girl
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Blowing the steam
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Feels good fulfilling your dream
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Using your head, while y'all niggaz losing your bread
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Watching the snakes in the garden and I'll watch y'all dead
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Whether I'm living or dying, got 'em rough riding
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Leave with two bitches 100 G's plus iron
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Styles spits the shit that'll have niggaz crying
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Telling your man what I said, fucking with Dreads
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In the 500 I'm blunted, most wanted by Feds
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Lock me up, your little ass copied up
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Had the whole East Side looking poppied up
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Hop in the Porsche
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Cranberry frosty sauce
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Deep dish 18's
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Out of state play things
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Ten niggaz behind me, we all racing
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Eleven left hands with them platinum face things
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Busting a left, about the get the truck with the checks
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Sending you death for fucking with the Men of Respect
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Verse Four: Jadakiss
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Y'all think y'all getting a dime of this rap money, you crazy
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I'm hungry and I can't pump no more, I'm lazy
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I never did like you, I really don't know you
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And just because I give you a dap, I'll still blow you
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Listen here, we just gonna make one thing clear
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You gonna lose two of your mans a month, f |