| That noise in the background, that’s my skateboard
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| That nigga Mack crazy
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| Yeah, uh
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| I put my shooters on they feet
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| I just give 'em your address, then go to sleep
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| The money turned my niggas into monsters
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| The white done turned my niggas into Nazis, Lord
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| The money turned my face into a stocking
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| Don’t make me turn your baby to a hostage, boy
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| Don’t make me turn the kid to a foster
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| My woman turn my dick into a Mazda, Lord
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| Body parts in the duffel
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| The bullets turn your body to a puzzle
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| The money turn my bitch into a monster
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| She know how to get a check and turn a zero to a comma, Lord
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| The money turn my niggas into killas
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| The sugar turnt the cocaine to vanilla
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| The money turnt the bitches into hoes
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| The money turned my niggas into foes, Lord
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| I put my shooters on they feet
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| Give 'em your address, then I go out to eat
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| Had that snowman in the hood like Jody Breeze
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| She from the hood but look like she from overseas
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| I said, «Girl you know I love you and I care for ya
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| I got some new shoes and a bag of hair for ya»
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| She say, «Fuck these other niggas, they ain’t half of ya
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| Just keep laughing to the bank, it’s hilarious»
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| I got a stay-at-home gun and a travel gun
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| Boy, we could sell white, in Africa
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| It’s like, I can’t explain, y’all asked me to spit
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| And now I’m drooling on my chain
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| «What happened to Wayne?»
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| I’m like, hold up, wait a second, y’all thought I was second?
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| Hating on a champ, throwing salt and not confetti
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| We pull up and we shoot, then we park the car and edit
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| Watch me pull up with no roof
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| Tthat’s cause I walk the dog and pet it
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| I’m like, hold up, wait a minute, y’all thought I was finished?
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| Shoot you in your head, then just walk off like I didn’t
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| Let my money talk so much, put my jawbone outta business
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| Doing numbers in this bitch, I’m like a smart phone with the digits
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| Bitch!
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| Riding 'round with the volume down
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| With the windows up and the choppers down
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| Soon as we get to your block
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| It’s the motherfuckin' other way around
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| My bitch say I’m too wild
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| She don’t even know why she stay around
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| I get home and I dick her down
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| Now she talking 'bout exchanging vows
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| If these bullets was paintballs
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| I could fuck around and I could paint a house
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| You could tell I’m pimpin'
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| Tthe way I hit the blunt with my pinkie out
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| I bring wine to Amy house
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| We smoke it out and we drank it out
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| And talk about these pussy niggas
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| Tthat ain’t about what Wayne about
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| I’m hangin out a Mulsanne without a brain, it’s out of its mind
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| I pull over, I push a button, it change like Optimus Prime
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| Speaking of change, it’s a shame how these lames droppin' them dimes
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| We aim at your grape, knock it off, now you just vines
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| Blood Gang, red rain on these niggas, hot if you dry
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| My gang top of the line, hollerin' out «Squad, take it outside»
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| I’m a taxpayer,
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| I’m a axe player, gettin' in through the back well
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| Red devil to the blue collared, un-enveloped blackmail
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| Fed up with the fed shit and Fed-Ex lost my package
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| My white girls say «Yeah, nigga!» |
| My white homies act blackish
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| Ain’t tall enough for the NBA, I ain’t big enough for the NFL
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| Should’ve been in N.W.A., fuck the police, Five-0 and 12
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| One time for your mind, bitch, never say «Nevermind,» bitch
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| You a penny short of a dime, bitch, no nonsense
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| Had a nine since I was nine, bitch
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| Yeah, born to murder
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| Bank account on fat, bustin' out the girdle
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| Tell 'em boys ain’t nothin' sweet, it’s sauerkraut, ya heard me?
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| They find ya body in New Orleans on Mardi Gras on Bourbon
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| Like, oh, Lord, Humphrey Bogart
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| It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a crowbar
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| For the most part, I’m the southern coast guard
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| AK-47 spittin' flame like a blow torch
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| Sorry 4 The Wait, woo |