| Yeah, you know it’s Naughty Boy and young Khalifa, man
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| Hotel Cabana, Taylor Gang
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| Got me up all night
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| Just to start a fight
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| You don’t wanna think about it
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| You drink about it
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| You smoke about it
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| Don’t talk about it
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| Every night’s the same
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| Who’s the one to blame?
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| You don’t wanna think about it
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| You drink about it
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| You smoke about it
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| Don’t talk about it
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| Don’t make it easy for yourself
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| 13's on my Impala, raw cone filled with chronic smoke
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| Homie, I got game like the Shuttlesworth fam
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| Milk these lames for what they worth
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| HUF socks, ashes on my shirt, three wheel motion all you motherfuckers
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| The Porsche in the garage then got a life for my dogs
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| I had nothing at all but now I take trips to Vegas
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| Rolling up, playing songs on my oldies playlist
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| Diamonds on my fist, Rollie on my wrist, my life’s the shit
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| Standing over the terrace, made so much last year
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| These lil' niggas should be embarrassed
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| Claim we the same, but the difference is apparent
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| Copy my style so much they got me like 'where the fuck is their parents?'
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| Smoking so much that the public think it’s scary
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| But I don’t give a fuck, I’m rolling another one up
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| And giving middle fingers to you little fucks
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| Who get online and say I suck, long time you rolling papers and wearing chucks
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| And I ain’t even had my best year, ten cars, 20 millions, fuck I’mma do next
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| year? |