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    You know how we do, Roc-a-Fella... forever... You can catch me
    skatin through your town puttin it down y'all relatin
    No waitin I'll make your block infrared hot I'm like Satan
    Y'all feel a nigga's struggle, y'all think a nigga love to
    hustle behind the wheel, tryin to escape my trouble
    kids stop they greetin me, I'm talkin sweet to keys
    Cursin the very God, that bought this wreath to be
    My life is, based on sacrifices, jewels like ices
    and fools that think I slip, you fuck around
    you get your guys hit, they built me to be filthy
    on some I-do-or-die shit, for real
    The price of leather's got me, deeper than ever and
    just think, with this here, I'm tryin to feel made nig-ga

    Politics as us-ual... I took my
    Frito to Tito in the district, blessed me with some
    VS somethins I can live with, stop frontin
    And for the dough I raise, gotta get shit appraised
    No disrespect to you, make sure you word is true
    I'm takin wages down in Vegas just in case Tyson
    have a major night off, that's clean money, the tax write-off
    You ain't seen money in your life, when it
    comes to this cheese y'all like Three Blind Mice
    A smokin bro, who pump Willie Ike spokes
    The furthest you Chiles been is the Pocanos
    My portfolio reads: leads to Don Corleone, nigga please
    Ten year feleon, heavy on the wrist, our face used
    with the diamond blooded Jesus and blind your face
    youse for life... sharight, Jigga, I keep it tight nig-ga

    Politics as us-ual...
    You feel my triumph never, feel my pain I'm lyin
    Low in the leather Zion, the best that's ever came
    The game changes like, my mind just ain't right
    We 'gwan get this dough, I guess it ain't your night
    Suckin me in like a vacumn, I remember
    tellin my family I'll be back soon, that was December
    Eighty-five and, Jay-Z rise ten years later
    got me wise still can't break my underworld ties
    I wear black a lot, in the Ac', act a lot
    Got matchin VCR's, a huge Magnavox
    to nitch, green like spinach pop wines that's vintage
    It's a lot of big money in my sentence
    Hittin towards a mil', lip a, written I kill like that
    chick faked me one-two cat, yeah, I do dat
    Ain't no stoppin the champagne from poppin
    the drawers from droppin, the law from watchin, I hate em

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