| Niggas always watchin' me
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| (Funky)
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| But I want 'em to keep on watchin' me
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| I’ma keep give 'em sumthin' to see
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| (Smokin')
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| I always feel like
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| Somebody’s watchin' me, watchin' me
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| Could it be the way I’m still tight?
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| Niggas that didn’t use to feel me jockin' me, jockin' me
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| The, whole world got too much money for me
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| To not get no dough, dough, can’t no hoe
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| Rock harder than the one from so-so
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| I never go broke, broke
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| I keep comin with the vocals that make most know
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| Why the fuck I boast, boast and brag
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| Why should I look sad that I got some loot now?
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| In fact, I knew how
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| Watch when I back the Coupe out
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| Can niggas just troop out?
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| The same way they do when I show you Brat
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| With a little bit of boobs out
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| And her big ass protrude out
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| Get the news out
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| Some of you bitches lose out
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| When the sexiness ooze out
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| Like orgasms, I’m the best at this
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| Throwin' tantrums when I move into makin' shit
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| If you thinkin' of becomin' one of my favorites
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| You gotta pay a bitch 'cause I be stayin' rich
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| I ain’t quittin', quittin'
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| Way before, «Funkdafied» I was spittin', spittin'
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| Throw yo' hands in the air like you don’t care
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| This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
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| Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
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| Get cash on 'em
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| And make 'em say, say
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| Hands in the air, from side to side
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| Forever I’m high, high
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| Together we ride, ride
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| I’m never too tired to get that paper, baby
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| If y’all wanna see me, see me
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| I’m give y’all somethin' to look look at
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| Make a nigga neck turn turn for Brat
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| Burn burn these hoes 'cause I’m back and my pants still sag
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| It’s automatic, they wanna jump on my wagon, wagon
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| I ain’t lackin', lackin' on shit
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| Open ya eyes when my body when I try on clothes that fit fit
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| I’m articulate and particulate on who I let hit hit
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| And get up in the middle of the center of my tootsie roll
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| Roll me something to smoke smoke and burn slow slow
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| Don’t keep it a secret, tell all ya folks
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| See you when I shine, I glow, glow
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| From the C H I C A G O, 60 644
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| And I trust no, nigga that make a mistake for me
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| Guns ready to blaze and to leave with you
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| Some of the ones run
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| I can’t control my trigger finger when it pump, pump
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| Stay out the way when I come come
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| It’s guaranteed to bump, bump the trunk, uh
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| And put a hump in ya back
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| If niggas is askin' who’s thumpin', it’s Brat Brat
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| Throw yo' hands in the air like you don’t care
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| This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
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| Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
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| Get cash on 'em
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| And make 'em say, say
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| Hands in the air, from side to side
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| Forever I’m high, high
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| Together we ride, ride
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| I’m never too tired to get that paper, baby
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| I keep my bad braids back when puttin' the dick on the track
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| You can turn it down playa, we don’t listen to that
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| The bass don’t thump, we spit on crap
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| That beat ain’t tight nigga, that shit ain’t fat
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| Every time that shit come out, I toss it back and I slap
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| I be breakin' ya back to the rhythm of rap
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| test it loud for the low frequency, where it’s at?
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| Niggas say, «I love that fuckin' shit ya did wit Da Brat!»
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| Actin' bad with the pad, with the pen, with the paper
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| Still smoke a nigga under the table
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| Put the lines in the words and the hooks and the phrases
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| Instead of puttin' out sumthin' that’s blazin'
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| Get ya hand out my pocket, get ya foot out ya mouth
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| And ya head out ya ass
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| And keep ya nose out my business
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| And I mean it, goddammit, 'cause I’m fiddinta get mad
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| I put 'em in the trash bag
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| Twist tie, put 'em out Monday and Wednesday
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| I kick 'em in they raggely ass
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| Take money from 'em and you know I better get some
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| I know it ain’t fair
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| But I smoke with alligators and I wrestle with bears
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| Throw ya hands in the air
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| As high as you can and leave them bitches there
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| Throw yo' hands in the air like you don’t care
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| This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
|
| Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
|
| Get cash on 'em
|
| And make 'em say, say
|
| Hands in the air, from side to side
|
| Forever I’m high, high
|
| Together we ride, ride
|
| I’m never too tired to get that paper, baby
|
| Throw yo' hands in the air like you don’t care
|
| This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
|
| Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
|
| Get cash on 'em
|
| And make 'em say, say
|
| Hands in the air, from side to side
|
| Forever I’m high, high
|
| Together we ride, ride
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| I’m never too tired to get that paper, baby |