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land of tha lost - tha god fahim, jay nice & left lane didon lyrics

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[verse 1: tha god fahim]
uh
live for the war and die for the peace
a product of the streets so i ride with the piece
seems ain’t no way out of this h*ll, i gotta live it
i gotta be me, i can never lie to kick it
n*ggas getting earth’d every week, it’s getting normal
survival in these bl**dy streets while tryna keep it cordial
it’s a full*time job not to finger*f*ck the nina
tied in with the mobs, different frequencies and demeamor
staying on my job, ain’t being lost with the ligner
five series bimmer, i’m pulling off with the steamer
facts, f*ck a rap junkie taking them naps
every glitter ain’t gold, i’m rocking gold to the max
n*ggas ain’t playing, n*ggas slaying over dollars
greasy thumb goblins, jacking to cause problems
laws getting laid in the land of the lost
mid*fall, n*ggas paying costs for results
ain’t sh*t soft, in the chamber where our whole life revolve
russian roulette and any time you can lose it all
mid*fall and any time you can lose it all
until then i got a 99 overall
[verse 2: left lane didon]
peep
me and you? we don’t look alike, i got hood stripes
by the book crook type, you look twice
n*ggas hooking like the rook and the knight
sn*tching pieces off the board, you need some more, cook it with ice
sh*t i stood in the light, but i took it as night
i ship good on the flight, n*gga book it tonight; i’m here
we can act on the score but talk soft
n*ggas came from hard knocks, don’t bang on the door
i hear you little n*ggas asking for war, until i pass caps galore
when i back forth, hat on the floor
yo, let the static be clear, manic banging
now you graduating, cap in the air for acting weird
i ain’t married to these streets, but we have an affair
i ain’t scary with the heat, i get a masterful sear
sh*t i had it prepared, teach a class
n*gga you ain’t gotta ask if i’m back in my chair

[verse 3: jay nice]
ayo
aiming at your adam’s apple, it’s flair, got these rappers scared
forgot you even had a career, i’m out the stratosphere
watch me run, passing my tier, get you drugged bad like it’s dared
’cause the truth is i’ve had it to here, yeah
and when they stack a pair, man the distance is quite offensive
new jack: nice edition, i’m spinning like michael bivins
not the type to get dramatic with image, that’s hype for gimmicks
i write an instant classic, the penmanship like olympics
catch you at kfc, make you bite the biscuit
the pump gets to squeezing on your arms like i’m checking for hypertension
sh*t is frightening, isn’t it? nice be spitting vital venom
rocking ferraga’ biker denim, this dump life expensive
a tight business, i strike systems, my modest operandi different
youngin’ with og mannerisms
the black santa’s gifted
where you stay? i’ll come with three hitters and make it rain there
donald, dancer, blitzer
n*gga
[outro: jay nice]
dump life

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