Summertime

Clipping

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    Set's up high, bitches and whips topless, no ceilings
    They pitchin' that Helen Mirren
    It's summer, that pot stick (pot stick)
    Block burning, G's banging on the beach, white Ts, no-sock shit
    Palm tree on lean, bass rocks with the knock
    Every cockpit bumpin' that Pac on the stock system rattlin'
    But battle-ready cuzzo got the heavy metal
    Tucked to haggle for the Fendi watches
    Watch it, everyone observe the color
    Of the block where they walkin', watch how they walkin'
    See her at the payphone code-talkin'
    She got them high shorts, thighs thick, pussy poppin'
    So the lay of the block
    Maintain, as long everybody play they role, and not
    Try to step on somebody else's line
    But when they do, the critic quick to put a clip in a nine
    A motherfucker will die in the summertime

    Low-lows clown on they pogo bounce
    When they slow-mo round, make the hoes go down
    Homies smoke that loud till they choke, fall out
    And they run they mouth, what they don't know might end 'em
    'Cause them women so fine in the summertime
    Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
    Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
    It happens all the time in the summertime

    Hold the liquor, it's a avalanche comin'
    A Cali nigga flooded in ice and quite stunnin'
    And who wouldn't believe the West Coast brung 'em?
    When the rest start runnin' when my set start gunnin'
    I came to represent for the Likwit Empire
    Tha Liks, Esquire, with about six priors
    It's been a minute since I lit a nigga on fire
    And I won't stop rockin' till your nigga expire
    I-uh gut the mic with the negative hype
    Any steelo or fashion, I'm a negative type
    Write whatever you like, starts day into night
    Paragraphin', how you have it, I be crashin' your sight
    As a treat, I'll eat all beef and gripes
    Toss up you niggas tryna peel my stripes
    Killas don't fright, but, hold up, here's the truth
    Summer turn cold when the crown hits the booth, nigga

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    Low-lows clown on they pogo bounce
    When they slow-mo 'round, make the hoes go down
    Homies smoke that loud till they choke, fall out
    And they run they mouth, what they don't know might end 'em
    'Cause them women so fine in the summertime
    Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
    Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
    It happens all the time in the summertime

    Dice game, rice rocket, pipe-laying, sidewalkin'
    Ides drinkin', wine-talkin'
    Where that Fernet, though? (Right?)
    Price-payin', eye sockets, dry-makin', fire-lockin'
    Flypaper, skyrockets, scare residentials
    Donuts in the cul-de-sac
    Photos at the intersection show 'em knock Coronas back
    Flipping off the pigs and breaking mirrors 'cause he own it, Jack
    And he on about half a pill, and he don't wanna yack
    So he keep it rollin' like that dice game
    Homies talk shit, Andrew Dice Clay
    Homies take shifts watching vice playing nice, like they ain't narcs
    Roll a seven; guns spark, dogs bark, dial nine-eleven
    Cars parked, ring alarms, homies stop bettin', just for a second
    Then start it up again like resurrection, they count their blessings
    Stop rubberneckin', you lookin' sweeter than confection
    Pause, laugh it off or get a weapon

    Low-lows clown on they pogo bounce
    When they slow-mo 'round, make the hoes go down
    Homies smoke that loud till they choke, fall out
    And they run they mouth, what they don't know might end 'em
    'Cause them women so fine in the summertime
    Turn a six to a dime in the summertime
    Motherfuckers still die in the summertime
    It happens all the time in the summertime

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