Yo it's a lotta niggas bangin' the realest that ain't worth it
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You bein' fake
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You're fuckin' with Mausberg the Great
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The king of the block
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Lickin' hot shots to keep the pesticides off my jock
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Well if it's on then it's on
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I'm bustin' with the black and the chrome
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Black tech gangsta, platinum crowns on my dome
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You wanna rumble, chuck em around with the superb
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Come up show, chain tokin' all your herb
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I'm'a [?] this nigga with [?] in the game
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And this bullet goes out to niggas bitin' my name
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Thought it was subliminal, but real doggs recognize them thangs
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That's why your chronic bout to change the game
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Certified bet, before my album even pop
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And fuckin' with Quik, that's certified platinum when I drop
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And I'm callin' out competitors, lettin' you know
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If you fuck with the Berg I gun ya down fo sho
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[CHORUS x2]
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Shut up, nigga
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You're fuckin' with my name 'stead of my game
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Fuckin' with my fame
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Shut up nigga
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And mind your own
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Before you can't find your own
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Ey yo I keep a full metal jacket
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The opposite of a bad habit
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Medicatin' niggas who start static
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It's on now, jet line suits and war boots
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Marine green canteen [?] and lime juice
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Mausberg the superior
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You never heard of a more [?] nigga comin' out the urban area
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Fake, fraud, and fictitious
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Like som parsley in a Ziploc bag
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I got the crown fool, it ain't for grabs
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I run through the biggest packs of niggas
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With my fists cocked back, and ready for combat
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And hit ya, with six blows to ya cranium
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I'm the dime nigga
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Fuck this rap hunch niggas, I'm gainin' em
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It's the Y2K, but the glitch is in this bitch niggas
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Don't want to ride with they own kinda niggas
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Me and Quik bout to take it to the limit
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Erasin' all coward ass punks and gimmicks
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We the realest for real
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[Chorus x2]
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I'm still sportin' gray jeans with the black and white Polo's
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With the chucks cut lo do's
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Niggas thought that I was goin' Hollywood
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After rhythmalism
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But all that taught me was to keep it realism
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Give a pound to my real thugs
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Use a jimmy when I fuck a bitch
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Stay away from unknown drugs
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But unlike y'all, bitch made, don't know where you from
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Lyin' on your records about niggas you done
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Fuck what happened to Cavaricci jeans and backpacks
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Where you get them khakis and that dog patch
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You ain't no gangsta
|
You only get in to fit in
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Take yo ass to the circus with your family and friends
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Cuz i'm too rough, too [?], too rugged for y'all kind
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And I gotta keep them cowards from crossin' the red line
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Pointe blank, niggas'll do whatcha do
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But keep in mind when you come across the Berg you're through
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[Chorus x3]
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-----------------
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Shut Up
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Suga Free |