| car 36, 36, we got a situation in progress
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| 37 between 106th
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| we got a possible homicide
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| all cars, all cars, we got a situation down
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| Aiyo, toxi’off the grey goose, vodka, shots of hypnotic
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| Ya’ll bitches want beef, son, you got it Fresh off the bliz-knock, Bob Diz-noc
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| Plex on the K.B., son, you get shiz-not
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| Right in your hiz-ead, you’ll be diz-ed
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| Don’t front on this nigga, I’mma from New York Ci-zey!
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| Ya’ll butter pec', make my nuts weak
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| Have me walk around, talkin’backward with stutter speak
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| Like tuh tuh tuh tuh tuh, buh buh buh buh
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| Butter pec', make my nutter weak
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| And ya’ll crabs down south, you ain’t got a clue
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| How it feel to slip in that papi chino power u White Cadillac truck just high beamed us Mami look like she was Angie Martinez
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| I don’t espanol, I play imposter
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| I was like «Mamacita, yah yah, que pasa?»
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| And slip back to my casa
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| She was like «Nigga! |
| You sound like rasta!»
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| I’m the ace in the decks…
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| I’m the ace in the deck, still casin’a Tec
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| That filled with the taste of the lead, buck buck
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| The bass and the treb', the space in the back
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| Where chumps walk by, and they face get slapped
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| I’m not known to talk a lot
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| Sit on five whips, son, so I don’t walk a lot
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| Got ten chicks, so I don’t hawk a lot
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| Been around the world, but I love New York a lot
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| Especially up in Bedstuy, with those crazy Cuffies
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| Or in Fort Green, with those crazy Cuffies
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| Ya’ll floss like ya’ll Jay-Z and Puffy’s
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| You get robbed, bucked down by a crazy Cuffie
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| Bobby! |
| Fuckin’the mics is my hobby
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| Fuckin’the mics is my hobby
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| Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby |