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you're perplexed, seems I better get to gongin'
The clean up man, hang you up like on and
Don't step in the arena, that's a stern warning
I'm the pops,
criticizing the lyrics 'cause everybody's a critic, look
I push the limit while rappers is pushing gimmicks
I use it to push my pen in then add it in
The pass is picking up all the lyrics on the dance floor
That raise your spirit level 'cause it demands for

Attitude is cool degrees below zero
Up
the way your sex drives, stay in your lane
If you're a man, I can't tell like if the door rang now

Now, to the ladies in the house when you come in
Master P
Golds in They Mouth Lyrics
[Chorus 2X: Master P]
Them boys from the south.. got golds in they mouth..
Don't trust them when this sun
what da man say beyonce
Dutty yeah dutty ya dutty yeah dutty ya
Beyonce sing it now ya

Baby boy you stay on my mind
Fulfill my fantasies
I think
lyrics, way more cheddar
Catch me if you can, I'm the gingerbread man
Keep pumpin em up make me injure bre-thren
Niggas is tryna capitalize of Hov
Like
Until your brain can't think for itself, it's just driven by the rage inside
Best not slip like a baby on ice
Some man are sharp to react like Arabian
it!

Allow me to introduce first Makaveli the Don
Hysterical, spiritual lyrics like the holy Qu'Ran
Niggas get shook like 5-0
My forty-five gun's next
to introduce first: Makaveli the Don
Hysterical, spiritual lyrics like the holy Qur'an
Niggas get shook like 5-0
My .45 is next to me when we ride, for
songs
'Cause, brother, it's relative
The passer's picking up all the lyrics on the dance floor
That raise your spirit level 'cause it demands for
smile with the rising sun (Yeah-Yeah!)
Three little birds, pitched by my doorstep (Yo-Yo!)
Singing sweet songs (hey now), of melodies pure and true (Hey
smile with the rising sun (Yeah-Yeah!)
Three little birds, pitched by my doorstep (Yo-Yo!)
Singing sweet songs (hey now), of melodies pure and true (Hey
Well, I ain't got much bread but it's alright
I got the sun in the morning, got the moon at night
Said, I ain't got much bugs in my bin, Sam
Have
the ruckus for all you muthafukas
Don't you know me and Method Man jam like smuckers
All you fools out there wanna test these thieves
You better come down
the Sunz of Man
I'm gon' send in Bethlehem
Through the Sunz of Man, I'm gon' send thee

My lyric condition, critical, political
Analytical,
dens wit Timbs
Wit Mac-10's and broke friends
Ya got guns, got guns too, what up son, do
You want to battle for cash and see who Sun too?
I probably
dens wit Timbs
Wit Mac-10's and broke friends
Ya got guns, got guns too, what up son, do
You want to battle for cash and see who Sun too?
I probably
"You know I know that ain't the truth,
"But if that's the story you're stickin' to."

Well, you can stick it where the sun don't shine,
Gonna take
the ruckus for all you muthafukas
Don't you know me and Method Man jam like smuckers
All you fools out there wanna test these thieves
You better come down
Cause the ruckus for all you muthafukas
Don't you know me and Method Man jam like smuckers
All you fools out there want to test these thieves
You
move
Ruffly rough, smoothly move

Yes some do want to know why we state the lyrics that are fresh
What's the time, black man's time
There's no need
and loaded I'm ready I'm heavy lyrics so steady this for the block Big homie bout
To get it mayn
It's time to get it my nigga my villains spit it my nigga
Sometimes we feel alone
But alone ain't always wrong

Alone in a crowded room
My mind made up like a powder room
I'm the sun, giving the clouds

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