yeah uh, GangStarr Crack Man, M.O.P. uh, BX, Brooknam, haha come on living legends, ya heard me? yeah uh yo uh
I got seven Mac 11s about eight .38 Nine nines, Mac 10s
man this shit never end Even if the apple won't spin I reach in my back pocket and blast you and his twin Niggaz yellin out the window "Joe's at it again" But this bastard's got lawyers, keep him outta the pen I mean feds wanna knock me just cuz I'm cocky An arrogant fuck, wave "Hi" when they watch me Can't stop me everytime official Better find my residuals or this nine gon' lift you "He was a fine individual" what the papers scriptured Had him on the front page in his graduation pictures And they probably never hit you if you brought your glock Me and my gat like Wilson, we all we got We walk the scorchin blocks with the hawk on top Even if the old ladies love to call the cops I got guns
[Lil' Fame] You got, he got, they got M dot, O dot, P my nigga we got guns Big ones, extra large heat Humongous shit that won't fit up under your car seat Pop in a heart beat Keep the cannon in my reach Lay you flat on your back like you was tannin on the beach We keep them damn thangs full of hollows And I'm from Christopher bitch, bang with the Wallace Fit raw this nigga you ain't loco You're buttocks big boy, your heart pumps Sunoco Brownsville deep in my genes I show you +bad boy+ for real, keep thinkin shit is +Peaches and Cream+ We'll run you down, MO-Ps hunt ya do
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