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Ain't nothin like poppin the brains on a |
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Corvette With your pet in the passenger seat |
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Ass at your feet, askin if you can pass her the weed (Faster please) |
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California masterpiece |
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Recorded partially in |
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New York With a blue spark on a purple plant and |
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I worked your aunt (She loved it) primarily under the circumstance |
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Don't be mad, |
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I was bad, she was better, sweaty palms |
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But I bet her and she told your moms and wrote a letter |
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Now they comin back to get off of the curb because |
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I swerved on her (beat it bitch!) |
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I ain't never been shit, that's what my mommy said |
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Now they callin to check to see if |
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I took the gun from under my bed |
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She don't trust me, |
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I don't trust me, my psychiatrist don't trust me |
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And I ain't called 'em back, |
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I hope the cops don't come and bust me |
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I'm feelin lusty and my purple video tape is trusty |
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But I can't go to sleep with lotion on because |
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I might get musty |
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I ride motorcycles and crash 'em on purpose into a crowd of bystanders so my insurance policy won't be worthless [Chorus] |
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Now quit that bitch shit, we gon' **** you up mayne |
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We gon' **** you up mayne, now get the **** outta |
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Dodge It ain't gon' work mayne, we gon' **** you up mayne |
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We gon' **** you up mayne, don't make me pull the pump out the garage |
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And posse up mayne, we gon' **** you up mayne |
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We gon' **** you up mayne, you must be high on that sherm |
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But you gon' learn mayne, we gon' **** you up mayne |
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We gon' **** you up - |
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WE GON' FU |
|
CK YOU UP! [DJ Quik] |
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Bridget Bridget |
|
Bridget was a girl that |
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I knew But she's a dumb hoe, and baldheaded like |
|
DJ Pooh Her saggy body tried to crash the party like |
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Mobb Deep |
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With her elephant feet |
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I got a whole lot to say but it won't come out |
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Probably because |
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I got this 38 in my mouth |
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And I'm pissed, |
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I'm 'bout to nut up, **** you nigga shut up |
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Like Mausberg, |
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I'll leave your chest burnin on the curb |
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Hennessy to |
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XO, crashed in the |
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Lex-o I make the bridge flex 'til these bitch niggaz let go |
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And I'm upset because |
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I'm all alone |
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Homies don't play by the rules, **** 'em then |
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I'm glad they gone |
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Pluck 'em out the flowerpot, flush and make they shower hot |
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Blister and scour, |
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I'm pistol-whippin with power, make 'em holla like chicks |
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Out in L.A. ain't nuttin good to talk about |
|
Except dead homies, and how in '82 we had all the money |
|
That's Freeway |
|
Rick and that |
|
C.I.A. shit 22 years later, it's just some ol' player hater shit |
|
How many gangs can kill people under the age of 12 |
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Get snitched on and go to jail, for another 22 years |
|
And who gets recognized for pouring out the beer |
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And how many young blacks drink and smoke to cover they fear |
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It's ****ed up [Chorus] [DJ Quik] |
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I made my momma a promise that |
|
I would make it home honest |
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She knew that there were no problems cause she could see right through it |
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She know I'm deeper than half of these niggaz, flyer than most of 'em |
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And that's as clear as you can see from off in your coast |
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And you niggaz don't understand these 16 bars from within |
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If being dope is an abomination then |
|
I am a sin |
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Cause I'm fly like the wind, and |
|
I'm high to the end |
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My enemies are my used-to-be friends, where do |
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I begin It's a sesspool of stress, you cowards drink from the well |
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Got no energy for haters, you suckers can't give me hell |
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Cause you whack and you stale, and you act like you bail |
|
You talk that shit 'til you gotta prove shit, get smacked when you fail |
|
In the midst of it all |
|
I'm just persistin to ball |
|
While these haters tumble and stumble and bumble and fall |
|
I'm the key to cut your meter off, |
|
I'll blow what you worth |
|
And befo' anything else on this earth - |
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YOU'LL GET |
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****ED UP! [Chorus] |