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Lyrics:
Get ready! Mister Porter! Come on! Predator shit!
Got me Nick Senior let me tell you what the man's bout I don't dress red and talk funny to stand out
You pushing quarters, petty hustlers get ran out Put your quarter back in your pocket unless your damn fault True vision I ride around on a fool mission Getting away my nutrition my dew listen The tools hitting, yeah I keep that wig split up Under my cap like a...when my dew's missing Green pieces of paper, we trace from Jamaica 16 bars, 16 keys and a scraper These are the things with a street GC when he made ya Tell the chef to pop a dough, free season my gaiter Yeah I kick a flow off the loud Then I flow off the dome just to throw off the crowd My nigger in his 30s, ain't no more hopes allowed Show off my smell! A gorilla looking to eating a banana in my Range Rover Nobody smell the pheromones from a laying over Ain't no I in team, but there's two eyes in we When we go black ops, nigger game over Kill'em all until nothing is left for me I do this while I'm chilling with the cousin of death Go from Wu Tang I ain't fucking with meth My crew slang keep that under your breath, we move things Move at top speed to the top week Not being serious thinking that you can stop me I don't do what's popular, I overlook you Like good view of the city through some new binoculars You getting money you can mob with us Flashy like a shooter between two photographers Still they call the security when corpse floats in I'm only just a deep thinker dressed in wolf clothes and I got a pose but my wrist looks frozen For me in death's door getting pushed open Funny how a hater wanna stop a nigger shine Make me wanna grab the Glack and pop it in his mind Instead I'm a poor shot popping with some long arms Sipping as vodka strong as your time God forgive us king so I ... So Imma hit the grind until the top because it's time See I'm confident the competition's popping in the line Not to my face say it to my back Cause I'm ahead of you whack niggers, blame it on the fact Your paper get jammed up, blame it on the facts And everything hanging on the racks I used to reach out to my armor get tired I ain't reaching out no more, that all transpired As a matter of fact this entire song is coughing inspired Drawn to the fire you fell off, you lost your desire Call Alzheimer, forgot the last off the roll G shot niggers all kind of small timers This tune is an open wound to a salt miner COB we a few good men like Rob Reiner That's why them hoes be on us when we would miss the port I told we getting head or tail you simple quarter The best rappers alive, from 5 to number 1 If I ain't on the bottom, then niggers switch the order The press is hip-hoping there but it's rock And dress as you got the message from the Come on! Predator shit! Come on!
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