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U-God( U God )
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Mt. Everest
I make 'em nod like paedamin See them live might dive off the mexamine Ground drama, sound harder than crowd bonkers I'm 'bout dollars, I touch down in your town, holla IMS, gladiator, call him Russell Crowe Son of pro, watch these lame niggas come and go Blessed with the poison pen, murder was the case so I guess it's them boys again Through your duce high, salute eyes, be the general, the last one to run I will take all ten of you, I'm feeling myself BK whiling the belt Rocking my shit, eyes on the real wealth Me and Goldie tell 'em it's easy money Now shorty wanna fuck, that's sleazy, honey Fame call us, money, it change all us Get it how you live it or sing the same chorus The game taught us, nothing in the bank for us W claim walrus, yeah, we tank for life Was raised on the island of the misfits The children of the corn snatch your green with the biscuits It's what you might call food for thought And what's the killer season if you don't include the shot This cross will start a feud and leave your whole mood distraught Used to feel safe until they unscrewed vault and Took your common sense out your memory bank Then dumped on you like missiles over enemy tanks So homie, drop slow like you in front of five O 'Cause force go in the raw and your back is where the knives go Ride the attic, hiding silver spoons Being cut so deep, it's hard to heal the wounds Those flashing don't blast, they still buffoons Just blowing on hot air, they should fill balloons Yo, I like them shorties that'll kill for goons Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com And start a hustle in an apron to cut wheels and tunes I want leverage, ice cold beverage Money I can't count, I blacked out standing on Mount Everest Live lessons, the cover of essence It's pure excellence parting right down my measurements Politic the deficit, fingerprints, no evidence Cocaine, caviar, hitting on receptionists Hang with the specialists, go medalist Presidential grant, eating stakes that's tenderous Got my brand, catch me in Megan Fox' bed Cash clock, Gucci, IPad, bag It's all black, top Nikes, you fat lazies Riches from rags, cash and diamond faces Got promoted up, friends up in high places Next move, my best move, chess move, the strategy Closet full of guns, son, none' Get off that bullshit, that hip hop faggotry I'm highbred nigga worth five gravity Clothes never raggedy, oil painting of me displayed up in gallery Capture me, Wu Tang forever, immortality High salary, blessing from a mother named Valery And my two sons named Anthony Racks from stacks, quickly I'm browsing First class ticket to the moon only cost 50 000 Niggas be doubting, it's understood, I'm running with goons One of a kind, imported goods, killer the hood Consume me, Lord, the last time I checked got 50 points in your voice Good Lord
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