Jay Pryor
Aside

Aside
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  • Добавлено: 08 октябрь 2020
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[Round 1: Glueazy]
Bitch, you fake as fuck!
Can’t front like you gangsta to us
For that shit you done to Ryda, you a snake in the brush
Bangers’ll bust, the doc gon’ have to staple him up
I’ll have blood runnin’ down Ave, like it’s late for the bus
Ya man wanna play? I’ll shoot the crowd up: Mandalay Bay
Pick a fight
A stick of dynamite’ll damage a Cave
Think I’mma believe he got all these hammers to spray?
Wit’ all this V.A. beef, and he never put his hands on a K
But wanna fight the boy
Why? ‘Cause I’m white? Yeah, right
Ghostwriter: I got a right (write) for boy
That fucked AngryFan’s bitch, but still ain’t found Piperboy!
I’ll snipe a boy
Ask your daughter if she like the boy
If not, BOW! Pops get a chopper through the window like Biker Boyz
You dick-sucker!
Oh, you ain’t heard I’m a fif’-tucker?
Well, find out if this shit real: it’s a Mythbuster!
It’s a big thumper
I just dump and I switch guns up
Bitch, I done ran through 20 mills like Chris Tucker
Big brother
I don’t take no shit, but I’m still dumpin’
You ain’t seen a cracker wit’ a shot this nice since Chris Mullin!
Riggz bodied you, Gen’ bodied you
I blame it on Norbes, he hid ya losses
Oh, we ain’t like you in them Air Force Ones - they had the Forces
Bigga .9, I got it in May, I grip a Taurus
Blikky wit’ the stiffy set in: it’s rigor mortis
It’s war, bitch!
Four-fif’ will get ya door hit
Wit’ so many bucks, you’ll fuck around and make the Forbes list
All that nonsense, I don’t know what they speakin’ ‘bout
Ever since we let Christians in battle rap, everybody a preacher now
‘Til the heater BOW!, and blood start leakin’ out
I remember they told me Twork left the group
Wow - BOW! - guess I’m the leader now!
Bitch, we been advised
I get the vibe, MAC-10 will rise
And everybody blackin’ on Ave like it’s gentrified
Pick a side!
You try that tough guy shit? I’m all tough
Lil’ blade, come ‘cross Ave: it’s a shortcut!
The .4 bust
Ain’t nobody fuckin’ ya boy up
I’m the man, and I put a band on it like a tour bus
He big mad
But a finger (Butterfinger) turn to fif’ Ave (5th Ave)
Gun point, Hunts Point: you a bitch, Ave!
I can hold my own
Rolling Stone: I keep a big mag’
Clip blast, and it’s good for 30, like a temp tag
Ave don’t wanna fight! He wanna talk about it
Where I’m from, if it’s beef, you don’t walk about it
I catch Ave on the ave, put some chalk around him
Go to his church, find his hearse, pull his coffin out it
Yeah, I’m all about it
Fuck all the doubtin’ shit - I’m upper-echelon
Weapon drawn
If I open a Cracker Barrel on Ave, it ain’t a restaurant!

[Nu Jerzey Twork]
YEAAAAH! LET’S GO, GLU’!
GOOONIES!

[Tay Roc]
Cave!

[Nu Jerzey Twork]
GOOONIES!

[Tay Roc]
Cave, nigga!

[Glueazy]
Let him know I ain’t them white boys you was steppin’ on
Yeah, I lost to Ryda, then evolved into a Great White, like a Megalodon!
Fuckboy! You think I do this shit for my health?
Smack, I beat half the roster on URL and still sit on the shelf
But it’s cool
You can go and get your friends for some help
But when the stick out, Shark City Ave gon’ have to fend (fin) for himself!

[Ave]
I like that, I like that

[Glueazy]
Yeah, and that’s the reason they gon’ say you a disgrace!
First round - don’t let that white boy scream in your face!
Carolina!

[Round 1: Ave]
I said, I’m ‘bout to reach my fourth million-view battle
But Mr. Driver said that I ain’t a factor
Y’all want numbers? Gimme plates wit’ who matter
But y’all keep servin’ small shit on a platter
That’s so absurd
I’m too big for hors d‘oeuvres
It ain’t no way I’ll make a mill’ (meal) wit’ this cracker!
I’m back, sonny!
Who said that we weren’t on the map? Dummies!
Now I’m makin’ sure the state come first, like tax money
This some risky shit you takin’
In fact, I blame you, ‘cause knowin’ just what I do, Glu(e) in a sticky situation
See, the proof in the substance
I’m the truth wit’ this, cousin
Whether legend or new nigga, I produce like it’s nothin’
See, first Math, now Glu’ is the subject?
I been in my comfort zone, and they still tryna get me used to a Justin (adjustin’)!
The boy slick, but it don’t make him tough ‘cause he war-spit
So tryna tell me that’s what Glu(e) made of? Horseshit!
‘Cause it ain’t nothin’ I be shook ‘bout, player
I’ll throw this hook out there, and fold ‘Eazy (easy) like a cookout chair!
I get respect everywhere, I ain’t gotta pop ratchets
It’s plenty back up in the state (Interstate), like 5-o’clock traffic
I tell him, catch him in the studio slackin’ - it’s good riddance
Line Glu(e) before they put on the tracks like hood bitches
That’s the difference!
These niggas like to post like they greasy
See, niggas always want that smoke ‘til they see me
But we gon’ keep that shit on go ‘cause we greedy
So don’t be the Super Fly guy - tryna get wit’ a Priest after you chose to play, ‘Eazy!
I even told Beasley, “If he pull a strap, I’mma slap him thorough
Right upside his apple, Beas’ (Applebee’s) - I ain’t scared of that Cracker Barrel!”

[Tay Roc]
NOT! AT! ALL!
He’s a CRACKER!
He’s a FUCKIN’ CRACKER!

[Ave]
LET ME GO! LET ME GO!

[Tay Roc]
Bro, he’s a cracker!

[Ave]
See, you just flexin’ for your clique
Well, nigga, for the record, Drugz (drugs) gon’ get you F’d up - that’s a possession wit’ intent
I’m wit’ the shit
Lil’ grip, let the .380 bark
Neck shot, nigga chokin’ on blood, can’t even walk
Got the neighbors all involved, “He won’t stay awake - he lost!
What’s your name?”
“G-gg-g-g” - now he can baby-talk!
So play me soft, and find out how I really be thuggin’
You gon’ pay, and it’s Driver fault: liability coverage
Wit’ this machine I’m blammin’, his whole team lie panicked
Jakk’ (Jack) froze up and then died - yeah, you seen Titanic!
Shit’ll get tragic, we gettin’ tagged if we spray tools
Got real niggas wit’ me, we can’t lose
To a bunch of goofy niggas - these ain’t goons
Wanna be funny? Tell this joker-joker, “Deuce”, and I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the weak spades rules
We move different
I was posted in my neighborhood, dawg
Shit, I even kicked it with the plucks like paper football
I got the SMACK call and took off
My worth wit’ the elders
I’m just here to help market Glu(e)
Yeah, I’m workin’ for Elmer’s!
The nigga’s helpless
It ain’t like you droppin’ a great single
With battle rap your fanbase, why you get paid Pringles
What N.O.M.E. stage they seen you?
Look, he gon’ start bein’ a bitch ‘cause he don’t kick shit right: Ray Finkle
Now let it sink, Glu’
He like, “Damn, bro tweakin’
I hope he choke, low-key (Loki), like Thanos squeezin’”
I’m just here to show we ain’t even, see, my level up there
But the comp’ that y’all hand me down - you already aware (wear)
How is this fair!? Where do we compare!?
Is it the skills?
If y’all say we equal punchin’, I’m punchin’ this bitch for real
So chill!
Wit’ all this heat that I brung to the stage, Roc
This faggot won’t never see my status: the page blocked

[Tay Roc]
Can’t see it if he’s blocked!
We blockin’ niggas all year!
We blockin’ everybody

[Ave]
See, out the park, I used to battle dudes as a favor
Then it moved to bettin’ dudes to put food on the table
See, it’s whatever when pursuin’ the paper
I even helped other niggas rake in them yards like I’m cool wit’ the neighbors
But Glu’ major? Nah, dog
Like, what the fuck y’all condonin’?
‘Cause I got the call like, “Naw, this ain’t nothin’ I wanted”
But if I did, it’s just a one-rounder moment
Shit, I damn near gave the finger to P (pee) like it’s gunpowder on it
(You gotta be a shooter to know)
‘Cause from the way he post, he should be the toughest
But when the tweetin’ is over, indecent exposure: you pussy in public
So call my bluff, bitch - the dagger comin’ out on the double
I get close and poke a nose (Poconos), you in a mountain of trouble
Now he can try me, but it’s gon’ be a Shame: that’s Keenan Ivory
Got 50 down pat wit’ the chop’: I teach karate
Plus all of my niggas by me, so soon as they try to swarm us
Fuck a charge - the pen’ don’t matter, like all-performance
We on him, nigga, shit gettin’ wired
And we brought automatics, ammo, and aim just in case it get liver
Wait, let me break down why that shit was fire
That’s triple A’s (AAA), plus all my niggas that rode side (roadside) assistance for Driver
I been fire-
Time, that’s time

[Round 2: Glueazy]
So I guess I’m just supposed to respect the gangster of Cedric the Entertainer?
Knowin’ when y’all set this battle up, he stepped in danger
A petty bar thief
Could y’all stop givin’ this man grief?
He don’t even take the bar...he just spin the punch: he Zangief
Man, please! I don’t know what y’all take me for
But I heard way more lines than that fuckin’ Aye Verb bar!
So fuck Aye Verb, too, bitch, ‘cause you said I wouldn’t make it this far
But I can’t listen to a man that’s been raped before
The banger drawn on Cave
Bitch, you know I’m a beast
Lead clap, get yo’ head wrapped for fuckin’ wit’ me
Headshot, I give his mom a motivational speech
Like, “I know you love Ave, bitch, but it’s time to let go of the streets”
I’m strapped wit’ a banger
A cracker, but I’ll actually blaze you
Where I’m from, it’s dinner with Trump: all you see is MACs on the table
Yeah, play and get popped
You pussy all day on your block
Got me lookin’ out for Ave like the neighborhood watch
I bang wit’ a stock, wait until I grab my tool
Face shot - BOW! - now he ain’t the same Ave I knew (avenue)
I spaz on fool
Try to swing on my fam’ and get (*smack*) split on the counter: Jean-Claude Van Damme!
Your man Sweetie a punk! I get the feeling you chump
You anemic? Well, I’m bulimic: I’ll throw a mill’ (meal) back up
Your iron low ‘cause you stole it
You gon’ need real backup
Or get shot and be on Twitter like Surf while you heal back up
I don’t think he crazy enough
My steel off safety
You ‘bout to die in this bitch like a stillborn baby
These dudes hatin’, but you never see ‘em say it to Glu’ face
‘Cause they know it could turn into some other shit like a mutation
Tool bangin’, I’m iller, grab it and peel him
Let the streets cry for him: I got Ave in his feelings
I tried listenin’
Muzzle the shot, the .9 whisperin’
Dump so many cans on Ave, I’ll get fined for litterin’
Kick in his door, wait for his girl to come visit him
Then - BOW! - light up whoever he feel (Phil) wifey: Aunt Vivian!
Let’s get it in
Bitch, I don’t play when it’s beef
If yo’ name on the stage, I’mma bang wit’ the heat
Push your brain through your cheek!
I don’t hang wit’ you geeks
I’m Pet Sematary scary: I’m playin’ wit’ a gauge (Gage) in the street!
You gon’ say I won’t do it, but I will do it
I won’t do it, but I will shoot it
You catch a bullet in yo’ head, you gon’ feel stupid
We clappin’ groups up
If this deploy, it’s packin’ troops up
I’m sick wit’ it, and you don’t wanna see a cracker souped up
You dumb fuck, you don’t know where the fuck I come from
Gun butt
I really came up dirt poor (pour) like a dump truck
Virgina, y’all really think he is the man!?
Tay Roc! I’ll slap that weed out your hand!

(*Crowd goes crazy after that bar*)

[Round 2: Ave]
2019 is the Year of the Cave, so let that sit in all you lame niggas minds
We ain’t come to play, put all the fun and games to the side
See, I done lined a couple plates, but now it’s time I up the stakes
Like unprotected orgies…nobody is fuckin’ safe
And you fell right for the bait
Guess you here to get mangled
Nigga talkin’ ‘bout takin’ bars…
Well, you should clearly feel shameful
You took mine without a thank-you
Hammer slanted over his head - now I get to take a shot wit’ the stealin’ angles
What you can’t do is fuck wit’ me lyrically
Cut the bluff
As far as physically, who you kiddin’, G? I’ll fuck you up
So we can brawl or get pistols, fraud
‘Cause this gun a (Gunna) Lil Baby, but a nose butt’ll make it ‘Drip Too Hard’
Man, on God, if it get wild liver, I’ll dump on all you niggas’ heads
I don’t care if the bodies pile, Driver (piledriver)
That mean all of y’all get stretched when you see me
Then after I take Lu out, the only thing that’s left is G-Eazy
Wait - spell his name
Take “lu” out - what’s left? The “G eazy”
See why we different?
These niggas ain’t slick in the mind wit’ it
Y’all can cancel this jerk
He been sent on a blind mission
Wit’ the hands, he’ll get hurt
If we switch it to iron-spittin’, then that’s Amber Alert
That mean picture the .9 missin’
Nah, listen, I’m on my shit today
It’s different, Tay
Now I’m gettin’ props for the stage presence (presents) like Christmas plays
And that’s the reason why this lame won’t beat me
‘Cause when it come to these settings, I’m not the one to play the game on, Eazy (easy)
See, he just here to help my plates stay full
So don’t go thinkin’ you fire stick
They just on their “replace K” bull (cable)
But when they asked who would be my first victim when this occurred
I told P you are (U-R), G-E: I’m ‘bout to purge
‘Cause I been took my stand as a killer
That’s why they all in a panic
I’m like the fuckin’ Boogeyman to these niggas
And as far as spots, he prob’ly want mine, too
But I think he constipated, ‘cause he ain’t takin’ that shit no time soon
So Glu’, just face the facts
You will never be near these flows
I’d beat yo’ fuckin’ ass ‘cause I’m very deadly wit’ those
Bitches don’t give you no kind of pussy - oh yeah, we know
‘Cause they’ll hate to see this face in the morning like, “Where’s me gold?”
Oh, you mad, bro? Well, handle it wit’ the hands or the ratchets
Otherwise, you’se a bitch, Driver: Danica Patrick
I’ll make it brutal and tragic, and what I do’ll be savage
And you know that the fam’ followin’ like funeral traffic
So what’s crackin’?
Like, show me what you do off the stages
Like this lil’ Goonie group y’all portrayin’
Like, Glu’ a goof
Man, tell me the truth - who got him sprayin’?
The nigga only come out when nobody ‘round...like how you prob’ly say it
He talkin’ slick, but gimme some proof that he spark the clip
Or this clown ever had to break down and get off a zip
Fuck that scared caution shit!
We was fed off the strip
All of my niggas split bread, Eazy (easy), like red sausages
No matter the cost, ya dig?
We figured we should be paid
Whether pool flips or a smooth lick: the pussy shaved
I got some thuggin’ niggas wit’ me and a plug that’s in the city
Used to front all white like y’all buses in the ‘50s
So miss me wit’ the talk from all these Nerf-made niggas
‘Cause his pack travel wit’ rats, yeah, we heard, they Splinters
Picture full of police niggas, and this jerkface center
Of a whole party of 12 like a birthday dinner
You’se a pretender, and that shit ain’t just word from my mouth
But bitch, I been cut from the jump like a hurdle tryout
I had to bow out, just ‘cause my mama was over cryin’
Used to tell me, “Pray”
“Mama, I can’t. He know I’m lyin’!”
But I’m tryin’, grindin’ ‘cause the fact is I’m a father
But I’d be lyin’ sayin’ that the challenges weren’t harder
I’m drinkin’ heavy, thinkin’ ‘bout my talent plus my problems
Dealin’ with Life, tryna find my balance on the bottles
That’s why the drama never a problem, it’s therapeutic
So if issues make you wanna get a pistol, you better use it
‘Cause my can blazin’
What, you need me to translate it?
That just means that I will draw the fif’, Eazy (easy), like hand tracin’
Man, these weak losers speak crude, but I keep shooters
Street dudes who don’t sleep when it’s heated, they squeeze Rugers
Try to push me to the point where it’s beef, just keep cool
‘Cause when I push back, everything stops like beach cruisers
Then you gon’ see my guys straight killas
Roc, everything Gucci ‘til the design is to violate niggas
And that’s the point when beef gon’ come even mo’
But I don’t care if I lose it, meanin’ as soon as Eazy (easy) come, Eazy (easy) go

[Round 3: Glueazy]
Look, I said, YK could suck a dick, Ave do sucka shit
Me and Roc cool, but...I don’t really know after this

[Tay Roc]
My dawg

[Glueazy]
Richmond, what up?
Yeah, I’m back, bitches
They ain’t pat me at the door, I got it in secure (insecure) like fat bitches
Black biscuit, strap wit’ it, my grips do work
O-Red at Volume 3: that Iron rip through shirts
I been through worse
Spit yo’ verse, ‘cause times changin’
Battle rap’s about Crips and Bloods and sign language
Everybody safe, ‘less you keep it on the waist
Gun wit’ me, Rum Nitty: I could see (C) it in your face!
You got me fucked up!
Young Buck: the .50 yellin’
Just know, I’m wit’ all the smoke like Willie Nelson
I blam a sucka and they mothers, family suffers
You’ll be the first to get hit by the ‘K: Brandy brother
I damage suckas
Mariah Carey: Cannon-dumpers
I thought all y’all was “straight like that”...and one of y’all a tranny-lover!
I mean, the streets is talkin’, Roc, but I’ll squeeze first and change the game
A mill’ll bust, I know Roc aware (Rocawear) like Jay and Dame
That he guilty ‘til proven innocent
Oh, this can’t be life - I know it’s killin’ bruh
But soon you’ll understand there’s No Mercy, Ave...just ‘cause you Roc La Familia!
BOW! The cracker bolder
Fuck if he mad, I grab a toaster
And be outside waitin’ for Roc like Casanova
The heat-holder
I hit him two times, then shit humblin’
I had to throw Roc(k) in the fire: I miss hustlin’ (Ms. Hustle him)
This shit is very suspicious…
I heard that rumor ‘bout Roc and thought, “Where was the bitches!?”
I swear I move different from any cracker you used to dissin’
Or they just scared of Black cats, and I ain’t superstitious
I’m can’-grippin’
Grandma kitchen: big biscuit
I tell ya, I never knew failure...I stick wit’ it
See, a lot of y’all pop G shit wit’ less action
Rex Chapman: shoot from the tre wit’ vet fashion
TEC blastin’, park on Ave and wreaked havoc
Knee shot - BOW!
Now he Ricky Steamboat: his leg draggin’ (Dragon)!
Yeah, you just rap
You already know what it is
I think I’m better than these bitches like a chauvinist pig
The lead in the mag’ dressin’ in drag: it go in a wig
And he will (wheel) go in a bag: now he Bow Wow in Tokyo Drift
I just joke wit’ you, bitch
I ain’t know you’d get emotional, prick!
But if the Sig (cig’) fill up more, it’s (Philip Morris) ‘cause I’m smokin’ you, bitch!
Yeah, I’m really wit’ the shits
Silly wit’ the grips
Cap-peeler
Jack Thriller: This is 50 in the clip
I’ll let 50 hit your whip!
Live a lil’ bit!
T-Top said you was the bootleg man, and I just CAN’T GET JIGGY WIT’ THIS SHIT!
And that’s the reason y’all gon’ say he a disgrace!
Third round - I should shoot you in yo’ bitch-ass face!
Glueazy, man!

[Round 3: Ave]
I told P, “No more favors”
‘Cause aside from the fact that the fetti’s wrong
You know my status here over Eazy (easy) - why egg me on?
I know y’all strive for elevation
But why the fuck y’all think that he be ready for Ave?
Who testin’ Driver’s education?
Like, do he know what he facin’?
Did you approve bro rhymes?
Or you just think some shit is sweet - that’s why you Glu’ co-sign (glucose)
Bro, all I ever gave was fire
I told y’all, “Gimme Ill”
What, y’all ain’t think I could handle Will (wheel) so y’all designated Driver?
Naw, I’m tired ‘cause I run wit’ the new and brought legends higher
I’m the reason that y’all gave Suge a (sugar) raise - who did that prior (Pryor)?
Time and time, I had to prove I’m next
How I get planted on the cardboard wit’ Glu(e) like a school project?
Yeah, I’m upset
Like, look at some of the people I done worked wit’
Like, I ain’t tryin’ to speak as if I’m perfect
But far as elite competin’, I deserve it
Y’all tryna get a nigga off-track to run wit’ this cracker like Malik in Higher Learning
He’s worthless!
Shit make me wanna get the tools poppin’
.40 on Glu(e): that’s some expensive school shoppin’
If he don’t die, then that’s gon’ be so wrong
But I’ll tell his mom, “Fuck yo’ son, bitch! That nigga really Glu(e), he’ll hold on!”
Now what the fuck you want: a gun to spray, or the rumble way?
Whatever you decide, just keep in mind Glu’ brung the bait
Now he can come and play, but don’t be stunned when I punch his face
It’s the cracker fault why I took off: Columbus Day!
Now who want the fade!?
Shit, all of y’all could spar wit’ these thangs
And I will split a group of niggas quick as R&B fame
Now, I can scrap wit’ my folks
I’d just rather be Mr. Nice Guy in case Kenny get in trouble after the smoke
Tell ‘em, bro, that’s how the fam’ made
It ain’t no room for the bitches...that’s why we won’t keep in your man Cave
Aye, I’ll beat both y’all niggas ass! Bet money!
‘Cause Driver and Ryda (rider) fake
So whenever y’all wanna crash, test, dummies!
And it ain’t gotta be no fair brawlin’
But Tay gon’ wanna start dumpin’
Roc(k), don’t touch nothin’, like air-ballin’
‘Cause wit’ gunplay business, we know son straight snitchin’
And that’s why Ryda (ride’ll) get the boot like an unpaid ticket!
See, in the trenches, when you facin’ a sentence, you never sing
I got caught, stood tall like a horse, ain’t fear the Bing
Glu’? Nowhere near the same
‘Cause when the people involved, he Steven Seagal, meanin’ this pony tellin’ (ponytail in) everything!
Only on the Twitter, he gangsta
In the street, it’s a spoof
Do what you do, Glu(e): stick to the fingers
‘Cause if I bring it on site, I’mma murk you
His body might be on the ground, but Glu’ soul (glue sold) separate, like a commercial!
I done put in work, fool
That’s why I was dumpin’ the tools
Check my rap sheet - you’ll read about my hustlin’ moves
That’s how the Fu-Schnickens struck wit’ that tune
‘Cause these niggas lie smooth (‘La Schmoove’), then we ain’t got nothin’ to prove
So who he foolin’? Actin’ like he run the trap so smoothly
Oh-oh-oh, he got the straps, always ‘bout to clap those toolies
The background never match most goofies
Off the stages, they never be in no cases, like Black folks’ movies
But you a Goonie? How, nigga?
I need to see some proof
‘Cause there’s much more to it than what I’m viewin’ in your group
So you can stop wit’ the dreams
I had to adapt, you had to adopt ‘cause bein’ a real nigga’s not in your genes!
See, I’m a true crook
Ski-mask hustlers that left ‘em too shook
Pulled all-nighters, just told wifey, “Make sure the food cooked”
Choppin’ well, no pocket scale, I had the view hooked
I ain’t got to browse (the brows) over the eyes...kinda how you look!
But naw! He can’t relate!
He ain’t trappin’ in the trenches
Y’all might battle straps, but y’all ain’t clappin’ off the biscuits
This snatchin’ is ridiculous
Y’all ain’t really thorough, y’all City Girls
Twork (‘Twerk’) the best thing to happen for you bitches!

[Smack White]
We gon’ have to set that up!
We gon’ set that up

[Ave]
Get offended
I’m good wit’ the fists, they too amazing
Rock his jaw, give Driver the stars like Uber ratings
We ain’t gotta worry ‘bout these hoes, ace
Niggas gon’ either skate or watch me hit the bench like the Rico tapes
Aye, wait, Maine, this ain’t your business, so think about your sickness
Stayin’ out of the loop is (lupus) the best thing for your condition!
‘Cause aye, we ain’t talkin’
I’mma spray these targets
Then the extra 30 for Bill’s (bills): them the late-fee charges!
I told you, “Fix my plate,” right, Smack!?
‘Cause they been sleepin’ - it’s time I bring my state right back!
Don’t give a fuck about these sucka niggas! They type wack!
‘Cause I’m a nigga outta Norfolk (STRAIGHT LIKE THAT!)
Mothafucka!
And I cut the third short!
And I cut the third short!



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