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    [40 Cal]
    Aiyyo, the heat do spray
    Oh dough, too cheap, toupee
    I just blow his wig off like a C2K
    I don't care what ya people say
    When ya whole team fags, call your crew B2Gay
    What you know about Couversier and the Denali gray
    Halle Berry, Halle Robertson, that's a holiday/Halle Day
    I play the dotty way, bring it where ya mommy stay
    See the gun, put ya hands up like hip hop hooray
    I'm a Dr. Dre, stacks is high
    Niggaz comin' at me wrong, and I ask 'em why
    And they don't have the right answer, like Allen I.
    Then put ya hands between ya legs, kiss ya ass goodbye
    And get ya, squad aware, Harlem's here
    And if we ain't got Roc on, we got Rob 'Em Wear
    Cardiare, army's, safari gear
    With coke, will line up more heads than a barber’s chair
    Them my fiend niggaz

    [Chorus 2x: 40 Cal]
    This is 40 Cal., and the forty thou'
    Every forty miles and running, screaming shorty wild
    Laugh, flows, crack on the stove
    When you hear that 4-0, act like you know

    [40 Cal]
    40, I can show you how to get a mean stack
    Supply you with crack that'll get your fiends back
    Trust me, so keep talking and get ya team clapped
    Gun smoking so much, it need a nicotine patch
    And I’ma chain smoker, you got a chain, I smoke ya
    Throw 'em on the M track, that's how I train doja's
    Broke niggaz lie and steal, I leave 'em lyin' still
    You got a watch, you dead, that's time to kill
    It ain't vitamins and when I show 'em the iron pills
    I’ma bomb threat, you just a little fire drill
    I buy out deals, why? Cuz I rhyme reals
    So don't think it's millions, when I hit you with the 9 mil'
    I'm like a mind field, niggaz scared to step to me
    Drop two freestyles, already want the best of me
    See what the Roc cooking up, this the recipe
    Dipset Byrd gang, told you, consecutively

    [Chorus 2x]

    [40 Cal]
    Touch my jewels, niggaz rather palm a grenade
    My gun hold twelve shells, like a carton of eggs
    Ya'll know dudes from Harlem get paid
    But I ain't talk about money, when it cost you an arm and a leg
    Sparking up haze in the Garcia Veg', have you cleaning my house
    That's the one way ya squad'll be made
    Sparkin' the gaze, like barbers that fade
    I turn ya head to the Red Sea, and I put a part in ya waves
    I'm why niggaz smoke a carton a day, I blow ya father away
    Just to make you go, farther away
    Cuz in my hood, you try to floss fresher than Manny
    You be sweet Vicks like the cough medicine candy
    You mad my tom' heavy and fancy
    Your money come in light bills, like ConEdison family
    Tuck whammies in a mini hoster, so when I hit you with the grand slam
    Fuck Sammy, call me Semi Sosa

    [Chorus 2x]

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    Todas as letras de Dipset/The Diplomats

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