(feat. Pastor Troy, Re Re & Quebo Gold)
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[Hook:]
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it,
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(Come on) Do the damn thang
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[Verse 1: Rasheeda]
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Come on let's start this shit
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Shawty let's crank this shit
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A little sumethin for them hatin' hoes
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Who gets nothin' but them knees and boes
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Why ya'll all in my grill,
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Why ya'll can't keep it real
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Always tryin' to plot and scheme
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Wanna live this life is just a dream
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Ain't no I in teams
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All the real niggas know what it mean
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Catch me ya'll just to slow
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Hatin' hoes gotta let ya'll go
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Don't never try to stop my flo'
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Won't tell you this shit no mo'
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Da baddest hoe that you ever seen
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Two triple O, shawty bout that green
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[Verse 2: Que Bo Gold]
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Naw they don't understand
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These niggas don't understand
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These muthafuckers think we playin
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See they don't know what we sayin
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Fake niggas in our grill
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Fake niggas all in our grill
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These niggas don't wanna get to it
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These niggas don't wanna do it
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[Hook:]
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it,
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(Come on) Do the damn thang
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[Verse 3: Re Re]
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You can tell a real nigga from the fake fake
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A trill nigga that's down in the cake cake
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A hot girl that's clean not stank stank
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Some bad weave for somebody
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So u took a little drank
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So I guess it made u think that you could when u can't
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With the N with the ain't
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Ain't nobody got time round here to playing round
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Sucka with the big sack nigga better lay it down
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Comin' through ain't bout that shady shit
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Boy I'm mo' dirty than Dusty Rhodes
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I drop the beat and rock the flo'
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Representing that Que Bo Gold
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So don't you try to test us out thinkin' we country with no skills
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Cause I drop the bass and tame the bass
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Put this fire to yo grill
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[Verse 4: Rasheeda]
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Well I was born in Illinois okay ah
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Raised in Atlanta, G-A yah
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Lived in New York and L.A. yah
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My nigga I'm da shit no matter where I stay
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Cause, uh, I was cut like that, lil buddy I'm stacked like that
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From da front to da side to da back, Rasheeda, and I'm tight like that
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I ain't never been worried bout anotha
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Cutter her buddy, lil buddy I don't studder
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9 double lock chrome for the lame lame
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Big faces in my pocket not the chump change
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Ride the Benz with the wood grain, grilled out, smoke frame,
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With the knock knock
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38 pop pop all you haters just stop
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Or you gone get dropped
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[Hook:]
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it,
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(Come on) Do the damn thang
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[Verse 4: Pastor Troy]
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Brrrrdt! Uh, Stick em, ha ha ha, stick em
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Fuck dem pussy niggas and who ever with em
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All I say is sic em
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And there go my boys
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D-S-G-B, Pastor damn Troy
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Boy you ain't ready
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Boy you don't want it
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Boy we ain't ready, bitch get disappointed
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Shit, all I know is southern blo'd not lower than a dime
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From thirty piece to quarter ki we strictly on da grind
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No time to spit no evidence, no evidence, no charge
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Since they ain't got no evidence
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I gave them my lil boy
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The scars from my hand as I crank up the speaker
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Drop the bomb on you bitches, Pastor and Rasheeda
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Bitch, do it!
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[Hook:]
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it, (come on now)
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Do it,
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(Come on) Do the damn thang
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Do It
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Rasheeda |