[Intro]
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Nobody likes me
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Nobody likes me, but thats okay
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‘Cause I dont like yall anyway
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Man, I dont like yall anyway
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Fuck all yall
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I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
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My gat talk for me, baow, what up, homie?
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Them bitches who dont know me, they wanna blow me
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‘Cause the shit I floss with be saying a lot for me
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[Verse 1]
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I came in the rap humble, I dont give a fuck now
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Ill serve anybody like niggas who hustle uptown (Uh-huh, uh-huh)
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Coke price go up, capsules come down
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The Ds run in my crib, Im nowhere to be found
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Niggas who hustle for me, they dont even stash tracks
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They keep em on em, right there in they ass crack (Yeah)
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When I dont like a nigga, I dont pretend to
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Ill have the paramedics wrapping your fucking head like a Hindu
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Look, I aint going nowhere, so get used to me
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OGs look at me and see Im what they used to be
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Im that nigga that sold coke, the nigga that sold dope
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The nigga that shot dice, went broke, then sold soap
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The thug that pop shit, the thug that pop clips
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The thug that went from three and a half to a whole brick
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Nigga aint in his right mind going against me
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My pictures painted through words, I make a blind man see (Woo)
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[Chorus]
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Scream, “Murda,” I dont believe you
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“Murda,” fuck around and leave you
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“Murda,” I dont believe you
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“Murda, murda,” your lifes on the line
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[Post-Chorus]
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Yall niggas dont want no parts of me
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You tryna figure out how yall started me
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You gon make me catch you on a late night
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Pop shots with the fifth, then slide off in the six
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[Verse 2]
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Im not a marksman while sparking, so I spray random
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Not a pretty nigga, but my moms think Im handsome
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I hate to hear he say, she say shit
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Unless he say she said she on my dick
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Its no coincidence niggas who fuck with me get shot up (Blatt)
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I do it Cali style, drive by and tear your block up
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You soft, duke, you putting up a crazy front
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I stay with the MAC cause niggas tried to blaze me once
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In the hood, they like, “Damn, 50 really spit it on em”
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“You heard that shit?” “Yeah, 50 really shitted on em”
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Beef, you dont want none, so dont start none
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Youre just a small player in this game, play your part, son
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[Chorus]
~#**************#~
Scream, “Murda,” I dont believe you
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“Murda,” fuck around and leave you
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“Murda,” I dont believe you
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“Murda, murda,” your lifes on the line
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[Verse 3]
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These cats always escape reality when they rhyme (Uh-huh, uh-huh)
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Thats why they write about bricks and only dealt with dimes (Yeah)
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Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car
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NASCAR, truck with a crash bar
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And TVs in the dash, pa
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See em in the five with stock rims (Hahaha), I just laugh, pa
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I catch stunts when I aint trying, I aint lying
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I sip Dom P til I spit up, keep my wrist lit up
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Get outta line, I get you hit up (Woo)
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Now if you say my name in your rhyme, you better watch what you say
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You get carried away, you could get shot and carried away
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Now heres a list of MCs that could kill you in eight bars
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50, um, JAY-Z and Nas
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Ima say this shit now and never again
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We aint buddies, we aint partners, and we damn sure aint friends
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The games you playing, you get killed like that
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Acting like you all hard, you aint built like that
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See me when you see me, nigga, what?
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[Chorus]
~#**************#~
Scream, “Murda,” I dont believe you
~#**************#~
“Murda,” fuck around and leave you
~#**************#~
“Murda,” I dont believe you
~#**************#~
“Murda, murda,” your lifes on the line
~#**************#~
[Post-Chorus]
~#**************#~
Yall niggas dont want no parts of me
~#**************#~
You tryna figure out how yall started me
~#**************#~
You gon make me catch you on a late night
~#**************#~
Pop shots with the fifth, then slide off in the six