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(feat. Crooked I, Daz Dillinger) |
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[Daz Dillinger] |
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Yes, yes yall,yes yes yall, yes, yes, yes, yes,yall |
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Yes yes yall, yes yes yall, yes, yes, yes, yes,yall |
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We got some people on the microphone here tonight |
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They coming to give you to you rough, rugged, and raw |
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You know that westcoast feel, yea (All that shit) |
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[Daz Dillinger] |
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Watch out its creep to, what the fuck can he do |
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Showing for showy death gun come with you |
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Fuck a posse homeboy, I run with a gang |
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Blasting niggaz for anything, looking sneaky, looking strange |
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Me and my couples from the pass kick gas |
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Smoke a pound of grass every doubt about cash |
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Glocks, ski mask, we bo on a match |
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Clush crash so don't even try to ask |
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I'm rough, roughed, and raw, and what you see you just saw |
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What happen when dat nigga daz, on the mic grab it |
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I take control and move you body and soul |
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One ho, I move the crowd with an flow |
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[Chorus x2: Daz Dillinger] |
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Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc |
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To all my homies and my ridaz who don't give a fuck |
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Who acting to tough, and acting to rough |
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Come around here nigga, get bucc |
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[Soopafly] |
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You mother fuckers in action |
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We blast niggaz for asking the ghetto fab satisfication |
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Barrel directed to bone marrow, hit cha |
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In traded to get cha, damage yo completed vanish that you cant mannish |
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Its the gangsta and pimps with heated clips |
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You cant hide during the day, we like Gladis Knight like plips |
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Mashing these niggaz for chips |
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If you wanna ride dip, like to fools in rip should |
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Throw up your hood, its all good |
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Nigga what, gangsta anemic stripe |
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Super posting, with a thirty-eight heater with my hosting |
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Blasting who ever stop from rocking coast to coasting |
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I burn and roasting a nigga who figure that |
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When you pull out a strap we aint right, where my gangstas at (Right Here) |
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Show up to blow up your block |
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Out for the cream like the crock |
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I tell these niggaz don't stop |
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[Chorus x2: Daz Dillinger and Soopafly] |
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Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc |
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To all my mother fucking ridaz who don't give a fuck |
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Who acting to tough, and acting to rough |
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Come around here nigga, get bucc |
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[Crooked I] |
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To all of my niggaz that couldn't crack britches |
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Staking riches, dipping something ficous |
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Tapping switches, macking and cracking bitches |
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This rapping business is phony as hell |
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I'm going to ride until they throw me an L |
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Like all my homies in jail |
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I'm gun cocking, con cock the shot the block, so I can clock a knot |
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Hit the spot with my trunk knocking |
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Drop tops is the what pops the pussies |
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Bury more arms than octopuses |
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Gages and blocks and bushes |
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Ready to start the conflict |
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You want chronic, I'm all for atomic, energy |
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Literally, thinking of the bomb shit |
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Mob wit me, don't mash alone |
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A chaperone, hoes who love to blow on bones like a saxophone |
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When niggaz think they Al Kapone |
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It only takes three steps, draw, squeeze, shoot, you gone |
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Who am I crooked i, who are they daz and soopafly |
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On the rooper high, stay true to my click |
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[Chorus x2: Daz Dillinger] |
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Can I get bucc, Can I get bucc |
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To all my mother fucking ridaz who don't give a fuck |
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Who acting to tough, and acting to rough |
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Come around here nigga, get bucc |