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    [Intro: Half-A-Mill]
    Uh huh, still, yea, yea, yea
    Half-A-Mill, uh huh, uh huh
    For the hood, yea, millennium style
    Uh uh, still, uh yea

    [Verse 1]
    I peel out ill maneuvers on d's like they could shoot the breeze
    I rather shoot through Coupe while only two could squeeze
    The name is Gates, ill porch, wit the gangues plates
    Computer rise, Rolex different coats gang dates
    Sling away from the projects to a greater estate
    On some Millennium shit, still spray an eight
    Heroin heron, fiends 'nortin to the zero
    Methadone clinics is finished since I hit the hood wit 'em kilos
    Deadly heart bean-o, straight haze out the purple jars
    Double park in front of Tito, dunn my chips lay like Fritos
    Ill pimp, chicks take a glipse and turn into freak hoes
    I rock Illmatic mostgenos
    still at might see me peel ratchets off Tuxedo
    Ghetto bastard, metal or plastic, auto reload
    Smuggle the guns all across the East Coast

    [Chorus: Half-A-Mill] **repeat 2X**
    Still gangsta, (still) still ghetto, still street (still)
    Still real, still roll wit the heat (still)
    Still got bricks for 16, still spit 16 on the beat
    Still gettin cream in the street

    Continúa después del anuncio

    [Verse 2]
    I seen it all, most of y'all niggaz is Mr. Magoo
    I sip Cris eat freshly steamed fish from Peru
    I always wanted -- a money green six
    To match the money Gucci case, get money dunny I'm use to this
    Street soldier, shit is real, fuck what he told ya
    Cuz he gon' die when the heat get closer
    Yesterday I had a meetin wit Sosa
    Seven bottles of Belvey, its been 4 years he's seem to get loca
    Gutierrez gleam my whole team is eatin the coasta
    Uncle Seenos cut your hands off catch ya cheatin the poker
    Son we from the slums, Medicaid cart, played in the abandoned cars
    Watch dreds sell grams to moms, grew up in time of rock heads
    I reminisce on all the block heads, most is locked up or shot dead
    All praises is due to the pot heads, and the pit bull niggaz
    Who trained dogs to hold the block down and spot feds

    [Chorus: Half-A-Mill] **repeat 2X**

    [Verse 3]
    Minked wit the hoody camouflage jeans
    Brooklyn niggaz play the hood deep
    Oozy spray the hood up your jeep
    Hustle for OT to OC
    Out of the country on British Airlines
    3 ki's plus a baby monkey, Firm Soprano
    Tinted out Suburban, cable TV, satellite dish
    10,000 channels, still love the hood, When I was younger
    Mama made me stand on the line for butter n thats gutter
    Pops nortin off Heroin, one love to the O God
    Who took me to Midtown show me how to get on
    Snatch pockets wit the left arm, but guessin sean professional don
    land a private jet in Brook-lon
    Nowadays we livin, stay in the sky like Pigeons
    Blue berry haze on stage wit twilight visions
    One love for all my dunns doin life in prison
    One love to all the rest of 'em who life is missin, but listen

    [Chorus: Half-A-Mill] **repeat 2X**

    [Outro: Half-A-Mill]
    Knawmean? Delaware, DC, yea
    still, dirty South, West Coast, all Coast
    OT, OC, even out of space, yea, husbands everywhere
    they still gon' be here dun, Half-A-Mill-ion, the don
    phenomonan one, yea, still

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