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Intro: Buckshot Shorty
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Aheh yeah... yeah whattup?
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Welcome to flight Black Moon, we about to take you on a journey
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Yeah... brothers lookin mad fine everything's lookin smooth
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I'm your captain Buckshot, my co-pilot is DJ Evil Dee
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We have S-W-N-D on deck
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We about to take you about 31,000 feet into the air
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We'll be cruising at a smooth altitude so
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just buckle up, enjoy your flight
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Verse One: Buckshot Shorty
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To the weak, what we do, buck em down, word life
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Each and every individual in sight
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Let my man Jewel peep your style for your card
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Then I kick a verse and take a look at the God
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Aiyyo God hit them brothers with a verse real quick
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And show em how you represent the Boot Camp Clik
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You know what they say about brothaz who screwface
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Upstate your knee be gettin laced, word life
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I ain't gonna bull, ask my man Buff
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On the streets he was tough locked up he was sweet stuff
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Kid it's hot, word to Ma Duke
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and get the loot from the man at night from my Timberland
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Buck with the Shot that I bang with hang with
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gang hanger with the double-edged banger
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Boot Camp Clik's breakin your laws
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If you fake we gon bust a cap, matter fact, break your jaws
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I'ma bring it to your chest like wind
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Then fill your lungs up with all the bull you had within
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But I'ma put it back so parlay
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To the weak in Bucktown all we do everyday
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Chorus: Buckshot and DJ Evil Dee
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Buck em down!! (Wind parade)
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Buck em down, buck em down, buck em down
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Buck em down!! (Wind parade)
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Buck em down, buck em down...
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Buck em down!! (Wind parade)
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Buck em down, buck em down, buck em down
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Buck em down!! (Wind parade)
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Buck em down, buck em down...
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Verse Two: Buckshot Shorty
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Yeah they tell me chill when I kick it
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Although lyrics is wicked, it's all about the L's and how I lick it
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Or how I shot somebody in the mug
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with the slug leavin white chalk all on over pitch black rug
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You couldn't tell me other word to mother
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When I was fifteen runnin around I was a real street lover
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On the corner out shootin the dice
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Layin up, gettin nice, talkin bout a heist
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GQ headin up to one-two-five
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Push up on a shorty lookin live on the prize
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I couldn't get the time of day when I was Little K
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Now you call me Buck so your lips wanna puck?
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Buck to your head, I know your X amount of thoughts
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But they call me Buckshot, cause I take no shorts
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Word to the shell around my chest
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Big up to all de massive rudebwoy pon deck
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So if you see a weak brotha speak to that bastard
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Or I'ma hit em up with the plastic
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Chorus
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Verse Three: Buckshot Shorty
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When I was in school I was the mack
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Buck was strapped with a lyrical contact
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knapsack, filled with the gear that I G'd
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and a nickel bag of *inhale sound*, yes indeed
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A mad little brotha runnin up on em all
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Fly as hell, hit the park play the wall
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And all the older people sayin Shorty's a bad-ass
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but youse a smart little brotha so you gonna last
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They knew the time, they knew the rhyme woulda
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hit you in at least four years, so I came to split ya
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In the nine-four it's all about the war
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Ninety-give ninety-six Boot Camp Clik is takin over
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In nineteen-ninety-eight I couldn't wait
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To get all my brothaz and do shows from state to state
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Now I'm the original head givin instructions
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Thumpin with them brothaz Beatminerz on productions
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Welcome to Bucktown, U.S.A.
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Where the weak, get they s--- ass played
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Chorus
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Outro: Buckshot Shorty
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Yeah, I like this
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Ya know, this is hittin
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to the lab, down in Bucktown, hah
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I hope you enjoyed your flight
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with Black Moon, word
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This is how we do on the regular
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And umm, please come again
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Word, we out
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(Wind parade)
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-----------------
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Buck Em Down (Da Beatminerz Remix)
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Black Moon |