[Intro: E-40]
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Niggas want that old mob shit back
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(Take it back to that old school Federal way, man. Understand.)
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For all my mob music monsters
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(In a major way. I'm still burning duct tape.)
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Bitch!
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[Hook: E-40]
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Nigga, this rap shit slow?
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I'll be back selling blow
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Posted right there by the store
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Selling narcotics for the low
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Niggas think I fell off?
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Niggas done lost they mind
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Niggas think since I'm rapping now
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I still got that line
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Still got that line
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Still got that line
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Nigga still got that line
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Who got that line?
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Who got that line?
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(I still got it, man.)
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Nigga still got that line
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Still got that line
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Still got that line
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(Who need it?)
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Nigga still got that line
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Nigga, this rap shit slow?
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I'll be back selling blow
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[Verse 1: E-40]
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In the traffic, in the wind getting money
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Never stunting clumsy gotta feed my family tummy
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Ain't shit here funny
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Pull your ho card, not a game motherfucker, this ain't gin rummy
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It's funky out here - musty, keep your guns oiled up, not rusty
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Not a starter pistol; pack something husky, bust the gusty
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Sawed-off, something that'll get your point across
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Knock a motherfucker head off; tomato soup, not chicken broth
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Promethazine, no cough; six-fifty with a brick of boat cost
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If coke cost too much so I'm charging
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Twenty-four, five for the margarine
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I might bargain, or show you love for the butter
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Peel your broccoli, give you a better price than your little plug
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You could lose your life, catch a fucking slug, plotting on a balling-ass thug
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I stay with the pyro on me cause ain't nobody gonna protect me like me
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I don't want no cowards around me, big bank, FDIC
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[Hook]
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[Verse 2: E-40]
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Nigga think I fell off? Posted up front of that store
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With a hard ass kick of that blow (that snow), OG having his cho (money)
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Another word for cho is doe (fetti), trying to outsmart the po-po (Five-O)
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Come looking for me and I gotta go (what you do?), I'm running through the store back door
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Knocking over candy and chips, commenced to hit the fence
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It's not my first offense, about my dollars and sense
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I like to trap and trench, we like to trench and trap
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Everybody with me don't rap
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Operation gouda stack, [sic], in this world of pain no patch
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Pain reliever disbeliever, push Keisha, pack a 40-caliber gat
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Got ho no more, toe-to-toe, don't nobody wanna fight no more
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Throw it all away over a ho, never see the light no more
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Ninety-nine plants I grow, got vegetables, outdoor seaweed, spinach
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I'm not a save-a-ho, I'll break a ho, don't be surprised if I take your bi-nitch
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[Hook]
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[Verse 3: E-40]
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Survival tactics, never hustling backwards
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Throw-off methods, that's why I wear these glasses
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So I can look like a nerd, po-po roll right past us
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Savage-ass nigga from the gravel
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Baller status, living hella lavish
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You can find me at the shooting range, target practice
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With a thumper in my fist going tactical
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Shaka Zulu heart built for battle
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Free all of my real ones missing summers
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In the stew doing football numbers
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Caught my brody with a K and some methamphetamine
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Didn't take the plea bargain, so they gave him all day
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All his family can do now is pray
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Hoping they reduce his stay
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Pass the hat around for the lawyer pay
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Get him out before he hella old and gray
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One day, I'm a probably be a deacon on the alter
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Hopefully, I don't have to break bad like Walter
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Get my hands dirty again and push birds
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Either that or that windshield glass Heisenberg
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Same toilet, different terd, I'll serve if I'm down on my revenue
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Call the neighborhood chef, Raul
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[Hook]
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-----------------
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Got That Line
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E-40 |