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G Joint

Man I rock the fuck out, though

I don't know about everyone else

Whatever we don't make, we gon' take motherfucker

Get this straight and fix yo' face

I ain't got to sell millions, I'm in the buildings

Where papi comin' through with them bricks by 8

Listen cocksucker and clown, I'll be leavin' you cut

You're like a dutch, how I'm bustin' you down

Niggas drivin' in a circle wit cha hoe in the back

'll be the only damn way I be fuckin' around

And I'm aimin' for your waist, hopin' you duck

So I can bust you in the head when I'm buckin' the pound

And I told you that I'm Holiday Styles, let's celebrate

Heard you gettin' money, I'll rob you right now

And you gon' get popped in the head, true story

Crips do they thing in blue gloves, pop off some red

Me, I'm on the move only stopping for bread

Double R and D-Block nigga, copper and lead, what up

Stay in the zone

I don't know why the fuck you amped yo

Got hoodrat bitches, carryin' birds on the public transpo'

Niggas in the hoods that go out like Rambo

They hot since 138th had that canceled

Young buck, dumb fuck

I'm two guns up, "Ryde or Die" 'til the sun's up

"Gangsta and a Gentleman" dog, I got class

I'ma send a bunch a roses to your men in the morgue

I'll be down South bendin' a whore, ten in the morn'

Dirty on 85 like Jay, Barnes, Sean Paul

Beef with New York rappers, I'm killin 'em all

On my Slick Rick shit, y'all could "Lick the Balls"

I been cool cause these niggas is ass, but fuck that

Might as well call me pool cause I'm gettin' splashed

And that Lamborghini liftin' the stash, even gettin' the mass

While some haze to mix with the hash, what up

Pass that blunt nigga!

I'm in the hood where the eggs get knocked off

Gang members find they family members with both of they legs chopped off

Niggas ain't scrappin', they bangin' ya

The judge don't need a tree branch when they hangin' ya

All y'all fags'll get ate like clams

Since this is a "Bloodsport" bitch, you could call me J Van Damme

All these so called guerrillas be tellin'

How a rat gon' give you "Thoughts of a Predicate Felon," motherfucker

Homey what you want, the blade or the slug

I'm the one that send the order when they sprayed up the club

Bitch nigga, bow your head in the presence of G's

Load the lead up and squeeze, I'm a great dane, niggas is fleas

Fuckin' rats cant wait to call cops

'Til I make 'em sick and put pellets in they mouth like cough drops

J-Hood bitch, my name ring in the ghetto

Cause I'm O.G. and I play the streets like a cello

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written by WETTON, JOHN KENNETH/DOWNES, GEOFF/STYLES, DAVID/MARCELLINO GERALD

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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