Turn my music high, high, high, higher ( You don't know what you're doin'- doin'- doin'-) Sure, I do I'm from the streets where the hood could swallow 'em and Bullets'd follow 'em and There's so much coke that you could run the slalom And cops comb the shit top to bottom And say that we are prone to violence, but it's home sweet home Where personalities clash and chrome meets chrome The coke prices up and down like it's Wall Street, holmes But this is worse than the Dow Jones, your brains are now blown All over that brown Brougham, one slip, you are now gone Welcome to Hell, where you are welcome to sell But when them shells come, you better return 'em All scars, we earn 'em All cars, we learn 'em like the back of our hand We watch for cops hoppin' out the back of vans Wear a G on my chest, I don't need Dapper Dan This ain't a sewn outfit, holmes, holmes is about it Was clappin' them flamers before I became famous For playin' me, y'all shall forever remain nameless
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