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    Woooh, yeah, you can get with this, or you can get with that
    I don't got to tell you hoe, you know I got that crack
    Three for the price of one, you know I have you comin' back
    You can have me a P.O. absolute, and it's a rap
    It's a fact, niggaz know, fuck with us you gettin' clapped
    No I won't, say your name, cause it just put you on the map
    And I ain't, into lettin' niggaz eat, no never that
    Shorty love the way I swing my game, I got a better bat
    Know I'm lethal with this rap shit, c'mon baby holla back
    Cut that juggler, you bleedin', no there ain't no stoppin' that
    I don't sleep, my eyes open, maybe a good powernap
    Spit a verse, then I eventually watch the cheddar stack
    I'm shittin' on niggaz, shittin' like it's a ??
    This a standin' ovation for homey, with a Tek clap
    F that, we takin' over baby, and that's that
    Catch me fuckin' with a bitch that can't stand rap

    [Hook: Havoc - 2X]
    I get at niggaz like the stole from me, stole from me
    Their bank account lookin' like no money, no money
    There go police, shorty just hold for me, hold for me
    You want to work? Then pump this O for me, O for me

    Gunpowder resi' on the sleeve of my Pelle
    I had to burn my leather, and toss (My Buddy)
    Two hundred calls comin' in on my celly
    I had to cut the ringer, like "Fuck e'rybody"
    Drive the bulletproof all the way to Cali
    Lay low for a month or so - gettin' very
    High - where I'm goin' it gets my mind of the bones
    Back on the East Coast I bury
    Now I'm partyin' with Halle Berry
    This Hollywood shit'll catch you slippin' if you let it
    So niggaz started grillin' me
    Like they was gon' take my things, so I assumed I had to set it
    Now it's blood splashed all on the ice in my jewellery
    They don't know who did it, cause I did it smoothly
    Take my ass back to Queens
    It's not like I look for trouble, it seems trouble always finds me, then

    [Hook: Havoc - 2X]

    [Lloyd Banks]
    Look, I got tons of old beef, and a brand new forty
    A hardcore groupie that would take a bullet for me
    A high-priced lawyer, just in case a nigga snap
    And can't take a joke, and pop a nigga over rap
    A horrible splatter in a matter of a second
    Dead over a record, shit he sound like he meant it
    My crew greater, yeah I'm talkin' to you hater
    I'm too major, two-tone blue gator
    New blazer, big gun, little razor
    So raise up, that ain't how your momma raised ya
    They wire-tappin' to hear somethin', they ear-hustlin'
    They won't bust him, why they came in and handcuffed him
    It's nothin', there's more 'mati's (automatics) at the spot
    One flat tire's gon' matter if they pop
    I pop up tomorrow with the wagon off the lot
    Stashbox, with the nine magnum with a wop

    [Hook: Havoc - 2X]

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