[Andre Nickatina]
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Man, I'ma run my mouth and get your corporate account
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Bring my benz out in the middle of a drought
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I blow lye like its "God Bless Buddha"
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It's sort of like the feelin' runnin' with a known shooter
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Baby I'ma spit it to the limit, run into the abyss
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You know its god number 7 on your top ten list
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Its kamikaze, look into the eyes of a pisces
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and Las Vegas talkin' shit is where you might find me
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Fillmo' down from the nose to the toes
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Get your cell phone you can picture every pose
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Picture all the clothes, picture all the hoes
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Picture the perfection when your money pile grows
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You gotta crocodile style, I sport gators
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They still might bite, so fresh with the flavor
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Got Khan? Fillmore's number one sign
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Steak, potatoes, garlic bread and some prawns!
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[Chorus: Messy Marv (Andre Nickatina)]
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(YEEEAAH) San Francisco baby
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Fillmo' niggas try'na bring back the 80's, YEEEAAH
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(Yeah money is the motto
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and run around town like its Grand Theft Auto, Chicka-kahnn)
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Wally on my hip, good weed in my mouth
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Gangsta niggas in the whip, YEEEAAH
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(Your not dealin with clowns
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When you try to kick hop, watch your body shut down)
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[Messy Marv]
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Yeah, nigga I'ma mothafuckin' fool
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Trees for breakfast, eat brunch by noon
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24 Davins, only showin the lip
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The rest of the women, same color as the whip
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Jump out and crack a nigga shit wide open
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Jump back in the nickle with the barrel still smokin
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Fillmore nigga, yeah bitch break bread
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I don't want no pussy, I don't want no head
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But you can get a sack of that purple stuff
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Some gin and a bag of that Hillary Duff
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I'ma pimp, trapped in a gangsta's body
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I'm on dope and gonna fuck around and hurt somebody
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On tuesday and thursday the ghost pull up
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Then everybody runs, they'll fuck you up
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I'ma shady ass nigga, man I ain't gon' lie
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I just wanna sell dope, smoke weed and get high, you BITCH
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[Chorus: Messy Marv (Andre Nickatina)]
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(YEEEAAH) San Francisco baby
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Fillmo' niggas try'na bring back the 80's, YEEEAAH
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(Yeah money is the motto
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and run around town like its Grand Theft Auto, Chicka-kahnn)
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Wally on my hip, good weed in my mouth
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Gangsta niggas in the whip, YEEEAAH
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(Your not dealin with clowns
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When you try to kick hop, watch your body shut down)
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[Andre Nickatina]
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You might mistake me for Doug E. Fresh, the way I sport ballies
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With my Slick Rick talk and my Slick Rick walk
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I wear rings like the planet called Saturn
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The money's movin' baby then your body is the pattern
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You know I hide out like it's witness protection
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Some people start to stare like a model car collection
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You know it's like: twenty G's in a Jordan briefcase
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My hood came up off the word "freebase"
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Man the soul of a grammy runs through my body structure
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My bottom ho cries, 'cause I never say I love her
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It's a cold word, thats why I p-p-p-party
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My lawyer is a sneaky motherfucker, very naughty
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With hot lies, I hit Popeye's for hot fries
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A real rap cat, talkin' 'til the sun rise
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What's your astrology, and your biography
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I talk a little bit to get you to follow me
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I'm like the quality, you like the quanity
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Fillmore born and ain't no apology
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[Messy Marv]
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San Francisco baby
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Fillmo' niggas try'na bring back the 80's, YEEEAAH
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Wally on my hip, good weed in my mouth
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Gangsta niggas in the whip, YEEEAAH
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-----------------
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Yeah
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Andre Nickatina |