| Privacy glass, down halfway, reflections cast
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| On office buildings as I pass
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| Bitch feeling some kind of way
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| Sitting right next to me thinking 'bout what’s next with me
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| Intimidated by the playaness, ain’t no how to say the shit she texted me
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| Like «When you tryna take it to the house?»
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| I’m like «Baby girl, we can get to it right now»
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| Enough room in this red label, fold up them oak tray tables, get down
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| Raise that dress up, oh you ain’t got nothing on?
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| You knew you was gon' fuck me, huh?
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| Girls waiting on you so they all vexed at the crib
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| Hit you with that 20 questions when they see you stepping out of this
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| (What that is) privacy glass
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| And I usually don’t ride like this
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| But lately I been on some whole other shit
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| And I usually don’t ride like this
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| Privacy tinted, professionally driven
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| This shit ain’t for them, this is all ours
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| High off life, I’ll die if I ever fall off
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| Ho see that vision and know I ball
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| Cause ain’t no such thing as halfway Jets
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| Impostor ass niggas is kicks, they Payless
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| I’m baggage claim
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| The driver hold a sign with my name, LAX
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| This ain’t no rental, I shipped it before I got here, ahead of time
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| Now I’m blue Ferrari on the 405, redline
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| Kush clouds, sunshine
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| Good times, inspired these dope lines
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| They stronger than coke, colder than froze
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| Baby don’t know if it’s for her ears or for her nose
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| Do what you feeling, they can’t see us in here
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| And I usually don’t ride like this
|
| But lately I been on some whole other shit
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| And I usually don’t ride like this
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| Privacy tinted, professionally driven |