Nah, nah, check dis. So I'm hangin' on the co'ner, right? Well, the fuzz comes and starts hasslin' me, sayin' sumthin' bout grand theft auto and drug smugglin' and I'm like, I'm not Ray Ray, I'm Rob-Dawg, and the po po knows they's wrong, but takes me in for possession. They planted that shit, man. I know for a fact I smoked all my yay. Word.
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po-po
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tia! = immature! dig? ... dig...
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