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Artist: Lil B
Album:  Thugged Out Pissed Off (Mixtape)
Song:   East Oakland International
Typed by: AZ Lyrics

Still in the cuts with the money on the frontline
My life's so real it's somethin like drumline
Your hear that bass... that's for the streets
Argh he sell a little weed, that's enough for me to creep

Burglary; it might turn into a raid, I need that mother fucking cake
I don't celebrate, my birthday is the worst way if they still rap
It must be birthday
Cause I keep getting presents or maybe its Christmas I got trees...
in the ceiling, you know what I'm sayin...
Catch me on international that's my other traphouse
I buy pussy from the bottom and I'm up 50 from the crackhouse...

They stole my swag and they... went Pop...
I might have to go Pop, Your trendy
The only time that I shop, is when I'm talking bags
Or when I'm talking blocks

Literally; I'll serve your fucking block, I meet bosses...
That ship off orders. I meet bosses that front off money
You need a mil? Yeah! Bitch fuck with me!
You're thirsty bitch, I'm talking bout a dinner plate
I'll smack you bitches and I'll smack the dealer

I came from the crack bitch, ask yourself who realer?
If we really got beef, I do no mask killin'
I'm my own bodyguard and I'm my Own J Simpson
I'm my own Al Capone and bitch I'll definitely go get em'

Give up my seat, but I can't stand snitchin'
won't fuck me in my ass, cause I'll kill your bitch ass
Got a lot of hate and pain, I wonder where that sprouted from?
Most dudes you know like me; You know they outcome

I got a lot of problems, so I smoke blunts
I (don't) give a fuck about a charge
nigga its waterfront. West Berkeley! Yeah
Down to South Berkeley, I push that line up
every time that I grind up

Bang! And make sure that my soldiers line up
Because everytime I open up them blocks I want them lines up