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作词 : Augusto, Blake, Bush, Price ... |
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(Intro-Sean Price) |
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Pen my mutha *******' rhyme, yeah, what up, what up? |
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Boot Camp in the house, Sean P, set it off, yo |
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(Verse 1-Sean Price) |
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Hey yo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone |
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*******, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome |
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Sean is a killer, Monkey Barz, Sean a gorilla |
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Great ape in the flesh, the Great 8 is the best |
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Duke, I spit bodies and take name, and take aim |
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At wack-ass rappers who be thinkin' that they the king |
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Stop with the lies 'fore I put a knot on your eye |
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Pop a popular guy, pa, plot your demise |
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It's not just a rhyme, it's a actual fact |
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That the God would actually clap at any rapper that's wack |
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Internet *******s usin' my image, you not Sean |
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Triple-w-dot-get the ******* on-dot com |
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(Verse 2-Top Dog) |
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I'm still G'd up, G.C.'d up |
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B.C.'d up, blaze the ******* up |
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Henny in my cup, jump in my truck |
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Knuck if you buck and bust if I don't trust, so... |
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Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or the gun's in my hand, the gun goes "blam" |
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My *******t don't jam, murk you and your fam |
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In a military stance, got you pissin' in your pants |
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(Verse 3-Rock) |
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Yo, I roll with a bunch of gun dumpers |
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You'se a fag, you roll with a bunch of butt munchers |
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I will ghost you, but won't nobody call no Ghostbusters |
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Bet if you live, next time you'll call some toast busters |
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I'm so gutter, since you really shook, I whoop bouncers |
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My reputation precedes me, they know I could and would |
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Out countless hood pouncers, I beat fire out of *******s like you |
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My right hand's a recliner, lean back off that |
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Track of the pack of your cabbage, fall flat |
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Smack of the earth, with your staff's jacked before that |
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Happen, I'm Boot Camp, what you expect from me? |
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I ain't askin' for love, you ******s better love me |
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(Hook) |
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So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy |
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Don't you walk around like you raw |
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Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy |
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Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy |
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Don't you walk around like you raw |
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Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy |
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(Verse 4-Buckshot) |
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Buck is mass murder, I murder the masses |
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New or old school, I shoot up they classes |
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*******s need glasses when you lookin' at I |
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To recognize BDI, I'm a crook 'til I die |
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******* y'all, why? I was on the low with no dough |
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And y'all was like, "Nah, I don't no go" |
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When y'all had yo flow, now my attitude is so-so |
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You jealous and you wanna tell po-po, for what, yo? |
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I don't sell no crack |
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I don't sell no *******, ******* now or none of that |
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But, I am here for runnin' rap |
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I tell you one thing, ******* with that, gun in your back |
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Boo-ya-ka! Who ya nah? |
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Buckshot, I was here before Tupac died |
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No doubt, One Nation, I'm done wastin' time |
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Now my gun facin' while you wastin' lines, we rise |
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(Hook) |
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So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy |
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Don't you walk around like you raw |
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Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy |
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Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy |
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Don't you walk around like you raw |
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Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy |
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(Verse 5-Tek) |
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This little ******* went out for a night on the town |
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With a cone-head hoodie and a black four-pound |
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Ran up to the door, told 'em "open it now |
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'Fore I ****** back the hammer and blow the *******t down" |
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Now you see how bad *******s on my ******* |
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Sayin' what you did to me when you ain't do *******t |
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'Cept hide behind your man, cop a plea to my dude |
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Y'all *******s is sweet, easily become food |
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So stay in your lane, homes, before them thangs drawn |
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And it be you and all of your mans gone |
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(Verse 6-Louieville Sluggah) |
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Look, ain't nobody doin' a got-damn |
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Forever B-C-C is the fam |
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So sucker *******s hate if you want |
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Get your chest blown out, crack a ******* blazin' a skunk |
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I'm high as Cheech, levels you can't reach |
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Sippin' on that 'Nac, tighten up the strap |
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*******' with this 'Bad *******' and her name ain't Trina |
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Just a thorough *******, told me "Stack and keep your feet up" |
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I'm on mines double time, yeah, your boy gotta *******ne |
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And my life consist of more then just rhymes |
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*******s hatin' on the bankroll |
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But *******, front if you want, stand under the halo |
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(Hook) |
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So Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy |
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Don't you walk around like you raw |
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Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy |
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Don't You Cross The Line, understand? |
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Or you'll get this, boy, this *******t, boy |
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Don't you walk around like you raw |
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Or you'll get hit boy, click, click, boy |
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(Verse 7-Steele) |
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Yeah, if you cross me, that'll be costly |
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Lose a lung or a limb, slug puncture your artery |
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Go thatta-way, you're startin' to bother me |
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When I'm frustrated, guns blazin', no apologies |
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******* what they told you, I don't know you |
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I don't owe you a damn thing, ******* what you go through |
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I got issues of my own, pistols made of chrome |
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Specially used to some dudes like you back home |