*featuring Lil Wyte
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[Verse One: Lil Wyte]
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Multiple mental scares, outlining your insides wit bars
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Gripp'in your nina hard, bitch my blood inhated by heart
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When I buck you gonna start recognize life is a game
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And it's always the same them dice you rolling ain't bout to change
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I'm snatch your chain, reimbursing you with some pain
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It's all over mane in which direction he make inzane
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I ain't bout that fame I'm bout the cheese, that this bout to bring
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So fuck your hoe name, with you my faith was lacking some things
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I'm starting allover with composition sticky like doja
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And I thought I told ya when I come thru I'm crushing like boulders
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I'm hard to top shoot at plenty I bet it gonna knock,
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Whatever I drop, but even your bitch can touch whatever I got
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You wildin or not is so bring your beef to the spot
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Hope that you got your glock I'm strapped with no hesitance to pop
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So back your words up and keep on choking out on that cock
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You like it or not its everlasting, ain't bout to stop
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[Chorus: repeat 7X]
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We bout to crash da clubs, throw some chairs break some'in
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[Verse Two: Lil Wyte]
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Rotten core to the bone with no way home and destination bitch
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I see you flying blind and you implying that I been trading bitch
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And I helped you out and I put your name across the nation bitch
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And I got the champ It's all the jealously up in you bitch
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Now how do you think you going to get a piece of my wealth
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I created and sculpted, molded and made myself
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I'm furiously gifted, lyrically raised in hell
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If you want it, come get it you better brace yourself
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My provocative rocket wetting hoes on sight
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Interactive disaster crucial a pond your flight
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Better watch I will ride especially at night
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I got a bullet in chamber coming at you that read Wyte
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So before you come tricking you better think about life
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You only got one you see and you better live it right
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Ride or die is my terms and I aint getting fucked twice
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Think you gone come out of here, come on bitch roll your dice
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[Chorus: repeat 8X]
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We bout to crash da clubs, throw some chairs break some'in
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[Verse Three: Lil Wyte]
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I'm bout to crash, the clubs break da law
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Throw some chairs, crack your jaw
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If it's killing season aint no reason aint no need to stop
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I'm the one put here to absorb all this energy and pain
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None stop pop from the top of the clip in glock I still don't feel you mane
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Cause of that gram of coke and now I'm puffin a pound of dro
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When I'm on that level and with my killas you will be found on the floor
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I must confess I aint about shit
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But if you think to cross me bitch
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You'll end up stankey, walk the plankey, and empty out your pockets bitch
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Break da law, break your leg, crash da club and crack your neck
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With these issues that I'm facing daily, I should tote a tec
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Get respect that's no option, all the hater filled with toxic 'in
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Walk right thru the center of the crowd and pistols gets to floss' in
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Causing problem dodge' in bullets soon as I corrupt the scene
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Leaving damage making havoc reaction fuck'in with me
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Chair to your bizack go thru my head when you ignite the flame
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Lead to your bizack of your head before it hit your brain
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[Chorus: repeat 8X]
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We bout to crash da clubs, throw some chairs break some'in
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Crash Da Clubs
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Project Pat |