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    [Verse 1: Bun B]
    Yeah… When I step in the spot, motherf-ckers say “who that? ”
    Big Bun B, but you already knew that
    Live from the state where they chop it and screw that
    You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)
    Motherfckers need to get off the dick, man
    Fall the f-ck back like a bike with no kickstand
    Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck
    Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man (damn!)
    No tricks, man, those is for kids
    Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib
    Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge
    You f-ckin' with DA so you know what it is
    I'm sittin' on the fours that clack
    Comin' down candy in the golden ‘Lac
    We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs
    And we do it for the pimps that are holding back… let's go!

    [Verse 2: Nas]
    Look who crept in with automatic weapons, reppin' QB till the death of him
    That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em
    Track record goes back to “The Essence”,
    Smack adolescents who ask who the best is
    I'm nasty like gas from a fat man, attested,
    I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast
    But I'm like a gastric bypass,
    Bunch of Nas African actors seemed to get typecast in the same role
    Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow, cocaine white Range Rov'
    Tats on my body like an art exhibit, I did real good for a project nigga
    Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon,
    Fat blunts in the car with strippers
    Guns in compartments hidden, I was real young, little youth, a novice nigga
    Blessings, bowed down, respected, chowed down now my food's digested
    Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs, bust louder than the noise I just spit
    Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for testin'… testin'
    Chop heads off like King Henry the 8th, guillotine to ya neck, bitch!
    I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb
    Been in this shit since '91
    Niggas can't f-ck with the style I use
    Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum
    Calm now, was a wylin' dude, studied cowards that made power moves
    Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food, you can say that's how I move
    A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas
    There go my nigga Wayne, let them niggas hate
    I love my nigga Drake say “we ain't got time to respond to niggas”

    [Verse 3: Shyne]
    I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street
    Poverty and desperation made me everything I be
    I'm a shotta, when I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up
    Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham
    Word to Poppa
    Blood gang, five! It's that Blood gang, five, but green is the bottom line
    I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth, they ain't gon' fight
    They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them llamas fly
    Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi
    Poverty and heroine, it's no place for a juvenile
    Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want
    Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!

    [Verse 4: Busta Rhymes]
    They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able
    Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable
    Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!
    And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!
    They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end
    That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth got em sayin'
    “There he goes again! ”
    See now they nominated a nigga to come and flatten everything
    Now let me dominate it, nigga run
    And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything
    And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun
    I gotta make it what they want and wake ‘em when I come and shake ‘em
    And bake ‘em and take ‘em to another place
    Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin' up
    Everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation when I'm done (Damn!)
    You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich
    And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!
    Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick
    What the f-ck you niggas still hangin' around here for, you apostrophe bitch?
    OK, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door
    Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole ‘nother classic with Tha Carter IV

    Letra enviada por arthurselon
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