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| Posted: 01 May 2008 21:29 | ||
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Registered User Currently Offline |
Posts: 2 Join Date: May 2008 |
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Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through and ain't no denyin
that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five Swayin in and out of white line, six double-oh Deuce zeroes, I'm feelin like the streets is mine Mines hustle, mucho dinero, heat's confined See more fall guys than Foreman/Ali combined If there's beef, I'm releasin mine And I won't stop bustin 'til them Escalade seats recline The kid roll with a greasy nine, come through and blast I return shots like Arthur Ashe You do the math, ten shots, ten dead bodies Fuck bein sorry, it ain't nuttin but a gangsta party And I'll make sure ain't a nigga survivin Shoot up the ambulance, make sure it ain't a nigga there to revive him And the Game ain't tryin to win, fuck the awards So keep that little-ass horn, and that Neil Armstrong nigga |
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