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you get hit up, shot up good We'll murk you in your hood I'm El Patreno, Nas the God, you lose your life Whether on the corner or clubs, I'm
Ayy (skrrt, skrrt) (SG Gang, nigga, skrrt) Kodak, why you strapped like that? Why you act like that? 'Cause I got it by myself (ayy) (You know I
p'tit Québec Si t’essaies de flex, pogne une deuxième hypothèque Ti-Joe connaissant, j’peux battle ton Google Home Paye mon home studio avec tes student
on The homie Great John on the beat, by the way Don't Come Outside, Volume 3 out now (Great John on the beat, by the way) I'ma fan Heavenly Father but
East New York!! oh god!! Yeah, got that gangsta gangsta gully gully Yeah, big business, Joe Crack the don Terror Squad baby, BX boro, holdin down
Na mój nowy album wszystko musi się zgadzać Dzwonię do ciebie, by powiedzieć Że nie mogę gadać piszę chore rzeczy Musisz koniecznie je zbadać Chcę ci
of a master You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats Break necks of broke souls who hate me Hate he? you can't
Title : Ghetto Model Artist : Master P f/ Theresa Esclovon Album : Good Side Bad Side [Theresa Esclovon] I see something I want, and poppy that's
of the messiah, Ty and Joe, we block all devils Get y'all shovels, can ya dig it? We gon' riot if y'all picket Sign of danger, oh, we anger from my past, can't
and my man Rick got millions of gold albums (That's a lie) I'm gettin' cold money every day (You're a liar) You'll need a wheel barrow for all that shit in
[Intro - Joe Budden - talking] This goes out to you (you, you) This goes out to you (you, you) This goes out to you and you and you You know who you
What I said baby joe Now you know you did me wrong you ain't even like that You can hit me on my phone I ain't even write back yeah You can run up
and thank you Wes I’ve had friends in the past but you guys are the best No matter how much shit, always stuck by my side Through the mud, through the egg,
I met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia Said me and my homeboy were coming out with an album You looked at me like, "Yeah, nigga right" But you
For my thugs for my thugs I don't wanna be a player no more I'm not a player I just crush a lot But you know Big Pun and Joe still down by law Who's
Není problém spraviť beat Není problém spraviť album Není problém spraviť hit My sme team, čo má skill Není problém žiadny štýl Není problém
Won't You Slow Up Hold Up Hit That Slow That's Dro Bra Eyes Don't Get No Lower I Told You Soon As My Bag Get Low I Get Some More Bud's Ain't Fuckin Round
But now she can't Take it anymore Blame it on the alcohol She ready to explore I looked her in The eyes and said You can call me Joe Grine Just hit me
[Fat Joe] Yeah uh Terror Squad. (TS) No Limit fam. Uh TS. (TS) Yeah yeah yeah uh. NY to the NO. Puttin it down like what. Don
And a Dodgers hat to me is what the Yankees is to Fat Joe Rim low khaki stayed creased up It has been that way since B.street (what) Hood niggaz need Ben Wallace
Hit him in his dome, hit him and go Aye lil' bitch, aye watch your tone She wanna give me neck in the ghost Tell that lil' bitch I ain't average joe She
the coastline I got the most albums and the most rhymes I could die and you still won't catch up How you gonna step up when you let them little heffers dig in
baby it's mario and you know it's joe joe: i came here tonight with partying intentions girl you know i'm usually a gentleman i got this feeling, i
done told you niggas Nine albums, stop fucking with me I done told you niggas The 9 on me, stop fucking with me You niggas must got nine lives 9th
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