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We don't say put your hands up, nigga stand up! |
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Yeah.. (STAND UP!) |
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Hahahaha.. yeah! |
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Hear me though, hear me though - heh, yeah |
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You see it! Say what? You see it! |
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Uh, uh (STAND UP!) |
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[Verse One: Lil' Fame] |
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I'm back in the fuck up in this bitch (who dat?) Me bitch (who dat?) |
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The Brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch? |
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I'm known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic |
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Cause when I'm spittin, I'ma split your shit in, when I aim |
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Yo you try to get a name, but ain't, provin a thang |
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I'm still doin my thang (go 'head) bells they still rang (uh-huh) |
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Now who the lame that wan' tangle with Lil' Fame |
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Step in the ring and I'll break yo' ass up - STAND UP! |
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(AAAAAAHHHH!!!) How you like me now? |
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That +Kool Moe Pee+ shit nigga, put it down |
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Yo I need to silence the gat, shit too loud |
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When that bitch start to holla, nigga through child |
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Made the church people on your block wanna move out |
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I bump off and I dump off, and a nigga cool out |
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Why? Cause when we in the place with the guns in our waist |
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We don't say put your hands up, nigga (STAND UP!) |
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[Chorus x2: M.O.P.] |
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Sit down (STAND UP!) Sit down (STAND UP!) |
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("First Fam, ridiculous!") |
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Sit down (STAND UP!) Sit down (STAND UP!) |
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[Fame] We don't say put your hands up, nigga (STAND UP!) |
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[Verse Two: Lil' Fame] |
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You gotta get it, cause you nah lissen |
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Dump off your body, send your whole family to 'gwan fishin |
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The street mayor, ghetto street playa |
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Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare |
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Fuck the fame! I agree, fuck the fame |
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But I got four words for ya, don't fuck with Fame |
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Cause I'm a Machine Gun Kelly, clapper dude |
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Write my name across your belly BRBRBRBRBRBRBR clap a dude! |
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Ain't no escapin these streets I'm raised in (c'mon) |
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It's so amazin (why?) We still blazin |
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Ain't no savin yo' ass from hell raisin |
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They be scrapin your canteloupe off the pavement |
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Wit yo' wig split in half and yo' chest caved in |
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So walk on the green, I'ma cut yo' ass down if you walk in between |
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So listen up and hear me boy |
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I'm the American (slash) pretty boy |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse Three: Billy Danze] |
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I done figured it out (what's that?) |
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They don't want us to shine (true!) |
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You lost your mind if you thought I tossed my iron |
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I still got it, for when I'm facin situations like this |
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You dissin? I'm hittin (buk buk buk buk buk buk) |
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Listen, is it me or the industry don't understand |
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I'm a whole different breed of man |
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Bill Danze, Brownsville, Bronx |
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And I'm servin double and single shots on the rocks nigga |
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(AAAAHHHHH!) What! Who gon' tame me? |
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I'm a bad block nigga and can't, nobody change me |
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You can look at me strangely |
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Keep yappin at your dogs if I go up in your mouth, don't blame me |
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First Family trainee, take what's mine |
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{*censored*} is my time to shine, that's that |
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(Take it easy!) Fuck that, I'm ready yo |
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I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools (STAND UP!) |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse Four: Billy Danze] |
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Fizzy Wo' (suckers never played us) |
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They can't fade us, they hate us, they anus |
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In fact when you touch 'em face to face, they stay in they place |
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They know I'm slant up from the right side left five in one fist |
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(Shaddup!) Shutup! Now you wanna show love? |
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You hear the soft music in the background it's your brain on slugs |
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Now, it's a dirty job but somebody gotta do it |
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So I crept up, stepped up, got to it.. (STAND UP!) |
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[Chorus] |
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[Outro: M.O.P.] |
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First Fam, ridiculous! |
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Violators try to get with us, we quick to bust |
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Them false dudes can't get with us, homeskillet |
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Cause we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough |
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First Fam, ridiculous |
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Fools try to move but them fools can't get wit hus |
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Cause we holdin (classin) loadin (blastin) |
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Strollin (crashin) rollin (MASHIN!!) |
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[cackling and ad libs] |