Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense
Its 4 foot of jubilation running down the stairs
Spit magic im dumbledore run the game til my foot sore
And wonder why i ain't ever caught that feeling before
A couple milli in the bag and my face good
Warriors, crooks, spartan army's and foot
Put my foot in your casket
Just pour me a glass of that dark shit
Cause todays youth judge by the shoe thats on your foot
I moved you up to hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood
Cause i run up in them and i make their cats meow
Swerve never stay alive, foot ain't on gas right now
See i know when the harsh reality take it's toll
Dig a six foot hole for a bitch ass troll
10 chains, hustle hard: ace hood
But we got off on the wrong foot
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