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black cayenne - lukah lyrics

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[intro]
yeah (yeah)
uh*huh
yeah (mob sh*t, n*gga)

[verse]
“help me lord” is what he shouted when he felt that this metal was to his temple
want your life or this pistol, my n*gga, it’s real simple
talking reckless like a boss won’t get you
now he crying for jesus, too late to be sentimental (too late, n*gga)
i keep a rolled wood in my dentals just to help ease the mental
and bruh you just a errand boy, i want the n*gga that sent you
have ’em tongue kissing the barrel like he’s under a mistle
he’s tag toe official, f*ck ’em, i wasn’t raised to be civil
ar*10, 308s will shoot right through the gristle
damage tissue catch you sleeping and put three through the pillow
spit brillo, said he ’bout it, sh*t let’s check his credentials
all bite, don’t do no bark, shouldn’t been let out the kennel
and though i’m with it, never stops me seeking mind elevation
i only turn into this dog when suckas trying my patience
d*mn rats and crabs, they got a whole f*cking nation
they either tryna pull you down or on the stand giving statements
art of war: rule number 1, is to know who you facing
so think twice before you move, get popped for being too anxious
most these n*ggas only talk cos they don’t really want angus
a nine will leave a buster brainless, yeah, my ways can be dangerous
i’m as real as they come, bruh, so why would i change it
this is mob ties only, only move with my aces
got some brothers with some cases, chasing after them faces
behind the wall, no chance of justice cause the system is heinous
some try to comprehend but we got too many stages
brothers go through plenty phases tryna escape out these mazes
help my hood get the cream cos i don’t spit to be famous
wanna give back to my city, we need positive changes
but when i’m aiming at ya squad, i’m aiming to hit ya general
still i’m pearling backwoods, but they must be original
bet these n*ggas smokin’ babbage when we puffing medicinal
you would know if there’s a problem, i don’t do no subliminals
this that “catch a body” flow, hailing straight from the gutter
and my gat ain’t got a type, so if it’s p*ssy, it f*cks her
when you bow to kiss the pinky, b*tch, make sure you pucker
surround myself around the real and staying free from the suckers
word, n*gga

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