[Intro: Eightball]
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He he he, yeeah
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[Verse 1: Eightball]
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What kind of nigga always run his mouth like a hoe
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Like his jaw got a battery, this nigga always know
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Who got robbed, got shot, who got put on lock
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Nobody invited you and still you got up in the spot
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Me, I'm not a witness, keep my distance, mind my business
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You, somebody talk, you in they mouth like a dentist
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We keep it gangsta, mommas love it cause they know it's real
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Like UGK, "we keeps it real" mobbin' through the field
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Big Ball, Fatboy, unload heat when my brain spill
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You for it, images without no coke connect pills
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We keep it crunk and poppin' real niggaz know the deal
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We Bad Boys, anywhere we at we smoke and kill
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You try to stop it, get yo' shit broke up in twenty pieces
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We roll deep in brand new vehicles wit secret features
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Game preachers move yo' pimpin' for you mamasitas
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We players on the field, y'all niggaz in them bleachers
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[Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 2X)]
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You talkin' down behind my back (uh) you done shot off nigga
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Fifty, four or twenty sack, you done shot off nigga
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If you fly and got a gun (uh) when the drama come, you run (uh)
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You know what you just done, you done shot off nigga
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[Verse 2: MJG]
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Man, come on now, you done shot off just like Mike Davis lost a knockoff
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Or his tight-ass shirt when the button pop off
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You standin' it's snowin' you got yo' shoes and socks on
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Who holds the key? No fucking bout it, I broke the lock off
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I grew the top off, took the comma, period, dot off
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And ran on wit it and broke you a whole lot off
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I'm gettin' hot and startin' to boil, don't turn the pot off
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You just affected wit it, pimpin' yo, get yo' rocks off
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Release some pressure, stop all that cryin' and wipe ya snot off
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Excuses you be usin' for losin' it's cheap as hot sauce
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Earn yo' position, stop hatin' beacuse you not boss
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M-J-G, pimp tight, I'm movin' yo' spot off
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And I don't reach, stoppin' yo' plans, fucking yo' plot off
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I go hard and I don't sheave and I'm not off
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And livin' on the edge rebellin' I'm never dropped off
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Like Aaron Hall, "Don't Be Afraid" bitch, call the cops off
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[Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 2X)]
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[Verse 3: Ludacris]
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Now you can either check yo' ego at the do' (door) or let the drama unfold
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And check my Rap Sheet, BITCH, I'm almost ten million sold
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I'm only rappin' cause I want to, I got enough plaques
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Needless to say, my favorite rappers told me to get on this track
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And so I DID it, quickly wrote my sixteen down and SPIT it
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By the end of the verse you'll say, "once again, Ludacris SHIT it"
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Then I'll wipe this wit yo' face and put yo' pride in the trash
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My whole career is like my video, I'm showin' my ass
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I keeps it, "gangsta, gangsta!" shooters and shanksters
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Until you shot off motherfuckers, I'm a "thank ya, thank ya!"
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Runnin' yo' mouth behind my back until you run out of time
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But at least yo' talkin' let's me know some millions stay on yo' mind
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It ain't nothin' wrong wit that
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Tell em grabbin' the thang and then I put it to yo' brain
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And change everything you ever hope fo' (for) wit the .44
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You'll be fallin' back
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And Yacht - is what I'm drinkin' steady thinkin' bout these pinks chasin'
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I'm bout to bring home the bacon
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[Chorus: Eightball - (Repeat 4X)]
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Shot Off
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8Ball & MJG |