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I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols windows in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house Now its all about versace You copied my style Five shots couldn't windows drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight With windows my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up I'm from N W New Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenerio Little Ceas'I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees Copin' pleas with theseLittle Kim is yahCoked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money,crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast propsBrainstormed and locked You'se a B-writer Pac style taker I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alazhay with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i
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