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Now uh, which way he came, left or right, you can squash that |
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I came from all directions playa, can you top that? |
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I got em waitin mr. rippla, how you droppin it? |
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See, i'ma drop it wit a cd full of major hits |
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I got tha switch when its click, i'm in tha zone fool |
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And plus you know that i'm gon rip it fo tha song through |
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It's time to shine, time to polish off my game right |
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Krunk like its game night or a roy jones title fight |
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Wit combinations that can spark up in a blaze fire |
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I'm gettin paid while you bustas goin haywire |
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So wha you say now? i brought tha ruckus |
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Testin tha bustas, got sumthin to say but no they love us |
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Indeed, i bring tha trees when its time to choke |
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Ready to beat up on tha foes at tha end of tha show |
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This time you know, my crooks stay on top of they game |
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And when you least expect it thea's anotha hook to tha brain |
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Chorus(juiell) |
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Balla, if you a balla tell em how you comin hard |
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Hustla, if you a hustla, baby hustle like a superstar |
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Playa, cause we some playaz and you know jus who we are |
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Crooksta, if you a crook tell em how ya comin hard |
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[mr. pookie] |
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Right back at cha, awww hell naw i wont ease up |
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Dont got me krunk now, picture me wit cheese stuffed |
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In my pockets, i bout to get it on a paper rage |
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Gotta make my paper change, increase my paper weight |
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Set tha stage, aint got no killaz on tha payroll |
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Only my crook playaz wit me from tha get go |
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Let it be known i'm from dallas, that's in texas |
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Bring it on, as if you think you can outflex us |
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Betta bring yo best, cause i'm runnin round these fools |
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I been waitin for this very day, straight up clownin fools |
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I'll face him, who, you, wha, that's to all my foes |
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See we gunnin when we runnin playa, knockin down closed doors |
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And uh, down to strike a pose when i finish rippin on these figgaz |
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Makin sure my presence felt, boy i been bound to come up wit cha |
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It's tha mr. comin hard on em, bring tha track, i'ma bomb on em |
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Kevin a put tha guard on em, i'ma bout to storm on em |
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Chorus |
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[mr. pookie] |
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Now you see in a change of clothes, still creased down |
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Got my ice on my fingers and struttin hard through tha town |
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And i cant forget my crown, flip tha brim like a pimp |
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Slide my fingers across, that's to make sure of tha fit |
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Got tha ladies checkin this and my hair whipped up |
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And a sack in my pocket, french connection in tha cut |
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Valley ruff on tha mic, when i'm chillin like this |
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That's when i'm ballin wit my crooks feelin tipsy and shit |
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I'm comin dizzy wit hits, and cant nobody fade tha g's |
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I'm as witable, hitable no he strappin on these 3's |
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You can try, you wont succeed, i'm to playa like, playboy |
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I know some tru cats that'll whoop you and yo homeboys |
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Me and pookie solo johnson in tha old school |
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Clubbin wit no rules, peepin tha foes 2 |
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Eatin some soul food and now we choosin |
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It's mr. pookie neighborhood watchin, crooks is movin |
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Chorus |