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Countdown
by T.I.



Five (five), four (four), three (three), two (two)
One you done when I see (see) you (you)

[Chorus]
Five (five), four (four), three (three), two (two)
One you done when I see (see) you (you)
Five (five), four (four), three (three), two (two)
One (run) you done when I see you
Five (five), four (four), three (three), two (two)
One you done when I see (see) you (you)
Five (five), four (four), three (three), two (two)
One (run) you done when I see (see) you (you)

Hey, what it is, the king back in the buildin'
Still stackin' and buildin', you still rappin' to children
Jeopardizin' your deals, caught up buyin' your wheels
Like its back when we was little and its still time to kill
Quit displayin' your skills, way underpayin' bills
Spend a day in the Ville, on how you saying you real
Niggas could never live how I live, you ain't deservin'
My lifestyle's urban, never met me in person
Just my bread suburban, in a red suburban
On 24's, 20 hoes giving head, I'm swervin'
Fuck boys pissed they pants, scared nervous
I'm shell-shocked, black eye, like I been in the service
Clean, cut, and preserved, but I told George Gervin
The closest thing your hoe seen, to picture perfect
The rolls gold king, my ring tight as a virgin
The dream I stop 'fore I seen the top (nigga)

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
I treat the beats like the streets, I'ma do what I want to
I ain't gotta confront you, I'll kill if I want to
Roam amongst monsters, kill homes and front you
That lil nigga swearin' he bad, eat him for lunch too
Funk you niggas, Dominique slam dunk you
Niggas sucker punch down one of you niggas
I was being nice at first, now I'm runnin' through niggas
Whole crews, not just one or two niggas
Cause you ain't representin' the south, you just embarassin'
See you on t.v. in New York, them niggas laughin'
The reason why D.J.'s ain't have a clue I was fabulous
Now days not playin' my record well, hell its hazardous
All this cussin' for some loud discussions, outta my character
Bussin' these niggas melons, and threatenin' all of they managers
P.$.C.'s Atlanta, so how you playin' and handlin'
Gorillas with bananas without playin' and banishin'
King of the south, it was said once then
Took a while to comprehend, that all sunk in
On the low deal a mil, I ain't done come again
Room dead, scene fled, 'fore the feds runnin' in

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
Comin' live from the Terra-Dome
Shinin' lights on niggas who got they skirts on tight with mascara on
All I have ever known, is 28 in the zone
Gimme a day and its gone, a brick of yea and its on
You have never known, me to run
'Less I'm gunnin' at niggaz domes
And runnin' them out they own
Territory, every story gotta flipside to it
And your disc ain't shit unless the click ride to it
And I'ma show you how the Westside do it
In the A, not Cali, bank heads, Sincent valley
Every crack and every alley sellin' crack
And every time diggin' hairier
Every Kim, Sue, Sally, til I tally up
A big enough knot to buy me a yacht
So then my pistols and my partners really all that I got
I'm not, playin' at all, I'm sprayin' 'em all
This K'll chop 'em down to size, 'cause they say that I'm small man
Pussycats can't worry the dog
Keep throwin' stones at the throne, I'ma bury you all man
Know, you fagot niggas hate that I'm ballin'
Makin' 30k a day and blow it all at the mall, and man I
Can't relate to what you rap on stage, nigga
Cause I been sellin' yeh since I was Bow Wow's age nigga
Hear my daddy and my cousin talkin' to me from the grave
And all they say is "Young nigga get paid!"

[Chorus: x2]
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written by LAVELL CRUMP, HARRIS CLIFFORD
Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Royalty Network