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I was rollin' through the hood one day
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Thought shit den calmed down,
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"Gang-bangin'" den played out by the years since I den been around
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Ain't talked to nobody from my block
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Cause all my niggas is locked up
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And it's been all ever I seen wit a guillotine
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So I was in the "Cut Supreme"
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Fifteen grams and some "greenodine"
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Ain't seen a block nigga since
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But now I'm off that kill green
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(Mothtafuckas ain't got no love for me)
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(Niggas wanna put some slugs in me)
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So I'm double 0 seven, murder redrum wit my three fifty seven
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Brotha Lynch Hung, but the bitches call me Kevin
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They try to make me think they close to me, but Neb'in [never]
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You know I gots to (say high) stay high, keep recipts for alibis
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And the meat they ate from them drive-bys ain't mine
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cause mine's a supe' desguise
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As I swoop the skies high off that buddha
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tah mixed the cusche and the purple hairs
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And it got me high
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(Now I'm rollin on the river)
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Labeled Mr. FedEx
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(Cause them bodies I deliver)
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Got to get to my next plot
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Unlock the freezer get the meat for the "rocks" [rotweilers]
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And heat the heat cause it's the "nine-neb'in" ['97]
|
and it's hot den a mothafucka
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(All day everyday) I'mma stay loaded up, "krondike" in the trunk
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And a pound full of James Brown
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Cause I gots to get loaded so hold up soldier
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[Chorus: 2Xs]
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The count goes
|
(One more pound of smoke and it's guaranteed to make a mothafucka
|
choke)
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(Ain't got no down ass bitch at my side
|
but I got some bomb ass weed in my ride)
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Nothin but notches, booches
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Fill my pockets, hit 'em up everyday, gotta have my pay
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The gaungay got me high now I'm paranoida den these booches
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Filthy rich, I'mma take the loot
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And the dig a ditch, tell your neighborhood bitch
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to miss me with that hoe shit
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Cause I'mma get this nigga when he surface
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And that's on everything I love, I gots to split his wig
|
Opened up the little blue packet, stung him like a yellow-jacket
|
Rib cage heavily padded, hit him with the automatic shells
|
Send him to hell express from his mailing address
|
We got his name, for sho', then we went to the house and did that shit
|
I know I said I do it alone in the pass, everybody in the neighborhood
|
knew
|
somebody betta jack his ass up like a six-four impala
|
You floatin' on dirty water
|
Pack your shit up nigga like it's on only you and your ?woda-goda?
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Track your ass down, smoke your last pound
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[Chorus 2Xs]
|
(If you smell any smoke it's just me and my homies gettin' blown)
|
And I was late gettin' home, intoxicated
|
Fight with my old lady
|
she was comin at unreal, hit the blunt and now she's animated
|
Motivate through you like a foggy mist
|
You can hold me in your chest-plate like that nitro hit
|
First Degree told me if the weed can toss
|
It'll talk some shit, gotta get me an underspot
|
make me a Hemp Museum like B-Legit
|
I'm tryin to bump my head on the moon
|
Live so high up in the mountains eatin' snake meat, fried raccoons
|
With a attitude I need food to eat up
|
smoke a fat blunt on my couch with my feet up
|
Top notch program, DOS mode indo 95 upgrade siccmade
|
Stay paid til the day on the ground, I'mma lay, I'mma stay loaded up
|
In my trunk I got the blow you up and it'll blow you up
|
And the count goes
|
[Brotha Lynch Hung sends out shout outs til the end]
|
|
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-----------------
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One Mo Pound
|
Brotha Lynch Hung |