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Artist: Trife Diesel f/ Termanology
Album:  The Project Pope
Song:   Think it Over
Typed by: Davida.b.

What's the synopsis? Stereotype scenarios
Of the bullets in your back the size of cheerios
Get in a shootout, come back, switch out my clothes
Go ahead and use it, I bet it's which one I blow
Hey yo, but on the really though, I'm higher than Arsenio
Chillin in the video, used to hold on the semi though
Bitches callin me pretty, though cuz I'm about to have plenty dough
Ballin without a penny, they'll want me cuz of the ??? coat
Niggas wanted me deaded yo, but I ain't really sweat it though
Chop, on my machete, your beef is really petty though
And ya'll already know when I'm moving oregano
I'm smooth as a merry-go-round, movin it very slow
A wise man told me "Term, think it over my son
Calm down, stop smoking your gun
Ay'body know who you are, and they know where you're from
And they seein you like the devil in the clothes of a nun"
I be heavenly with a halo, heavy making tomato
On the creek with my ladles since my first week in the cradle
No, I'll never retire, man I'm breathing the fire
I'm back, speaking to liars, I heard you speak through the wire

[Trife Diesel]
Yo, there's no way, no how, my niggas is gon bow
For all my niggas in the mess hall, eatin their chow
??? Clinton, all ?burnt green and hack sackie?
House slippers with the tight wife beaters and green khakis
Eating calamari, rushing they waves, cleaning they Walles
Ex cons, now they swear that they dons like Mr. Gotti
Yo my fam Ronnie just came home from beating a body
Merked that kid Donnie whom he blew off his feet with a Tommy
Got relatives up in the mountain servin him hella bids
Killas who severed ribs and massacred several pigs
It's BC, cuz in Hip-Hopulation, niggas'll never live
Behind bar salons, they killed a ??? with heritage
Fuck a release date, cuz mine's in a deep state
Letters from jail, my cousins be strong and stay safe
I thought it over, no longer will I just preach hate
So I reply stay wise, and make sure you keep faith
In this day and age, motherfuckers is illin
No remorse for lives lost, we immune to the killing
Feds watching every move, cameras glued to the ceiling
Cognito stay on the d-low when you move through the buildings
Think it over

Ayo, ayo, check, I rep mass murder when they mashin out
Staten Isle, where they slang crack in vials
Acting wild, running through, blasting pounds
Clappin down whatever thug acting loud
Chill out, before you see me, a bastard child
Peel out in the V with the cash and bounce
I roll through the 'tel high with the rational
With half a smile, like, who we gon capture now?
Police on the hunt for the blackest crowds
Black and brown, they bound to pat you down
That's just fowl, fucked up rational
Turn guns to hurricanes, how they splash the town
I'ma tell you right now, before I go back to trial
Yo gon see your man 50 do a track with Styles
Ask the crowd, who be in the 'Ac with style?
When he be aiming at the birds, tryin to clap the clouds?