[Cuban Link]
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"I'm hard to kill, for real, nigga guard your grill" --> Cuban Link
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Yo, yo, Yo flipmode is how this nigga roll
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Finger on the trigger low, quick to lick a shot for that bigger pot of gold
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Lock and load, my heavy metal rock and rolls
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If you gotta go you gotta go, that's part of the show
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My heart is cold like a Nautica nailin niggaz like carpenters
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Stalkin the hardest squadrons, spark em from New York to Arkansas
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Watchin the projects is how I got my logic
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Economics is pickin pockets then we split the profit
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The only shit I pop is what my glock spit
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Watch for the cops since we spark the chocolate
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Cause the blocks are hotter than the fuckin tropics
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In topless bars, college girls with no bras
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My whole squad got blow jobs smokin Godfather cigars
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Live large like Scarface, parlayin to far place
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No car chasin, she's watchin all the stars in space
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Safe and sound in my playground with my tre pound
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Got eighty rounds just in case clowns wanna play around
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I lay it down for them non-believers
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Them non-achievin niggaz that wanna be leaders but can never beat us
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Y'all better greet us if you ever see us (word up)
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TS, Beatnuts, double up, but grab your motherfuckin heaters
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Sample interlude
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--Slammin MC's on cement--
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--The beats, the nuts--
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--Got you froze like gun point--
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[JuJu]
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--It's the hard-little pistol packin--
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It's the control freak, leave you with a whole in your cheek
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Worst attitude in rap, Ju stay in the streets
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I gotta eat, the only thing I'm playin is keeps
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Your beats cost a lotta money but they sound real cheap
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You sound weak, anemic, like you get no sleep
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Fuckin with me, you outta your mind? get outta your Jeep
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Ya know I'm gonna beat you till the police come
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And tell niggaz who the fuck I got that Roly from
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[Psycho Les]
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--Psycho Les--
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Yeah, ugh, what...Jump out the Rover and let you know its over
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And grab you with a crowbar and snap you in a coma
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Drug you with my music son, you'll never sober
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While your chicks on my --boing-- on a leather soafer
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Chillin there, iced out billionaire
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In war clothes blastin as I blast led through your Versace wardrobe
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What! Motherfuckers
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--Slammin MC's on cement--
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Ugh
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[Common]
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--Common Sense, Common's tellin ya--
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Picture a king, with heater, holy book, and big rings
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Real nigga doin big things interpreting dreams
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Off the Jim Bean, ain't shit sweet for sixteens
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My gods got the block sewn to the inseam
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I'm on the other side, trying to get green
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So I fash and trash that ass at least a day
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Warrin with self I battle, the Middle Eastern way
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Bring heat like the months, that's east of May
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Casket in the road and saw a new school that knows the old
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This memory I hold the scroll, my flow is a Road...Less Traveled
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You rock, but been through less gravel
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My mystique suggest battle and what have you
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Rip a nigga from New York to west coast, Chicago
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Don't give a fuck where he from he'll get beat like a drum
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Till this rap goes numb, seekin the hot Medusa from circulation
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I strangle this string music, and suffocate a drum
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Wanted to be a star till I seen I was the sun/son
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got my weight up like Pun
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Improvise to get ass, emphasize to get passed
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Fuck a mic check, I bring my flow in cash
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Talkin to fade
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-----------------
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Slam Pit - feat. Cuban Link and Common
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The Beatnuts |