| I think I’d rather walk down and get 'em all
|
| You know what I’m talkin 'bout right? |
| Look
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| I’m never goin nowhere so don’t try me My music sticks in fans veins like an IV
|
| Flows poison like Ivy, oh they grimy
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| Already offers on my 6th album from labels tryin to sign me Respected highly, HIIII MR. |
| O’REILLY
|
| Hope all is well, kiss the plantiff and the wifey
|
| Drove through the window, the industry super sized me Now the girls see me and a river’s what they cry me
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| I’m on the rise, so many people despise me Got party ammunition for those tryin to surprise me (surprise!)
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| It’s a celebration and everyone should invite me Roll with the crew or meet the bottom of our Nikes (blaow!)
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| Explorer like Dora these swipers can’t swipe me My whole aura’s so MEAN in my white tee
|
| Nobody light-skinded reppin harder since Ice-T
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| You disagree, take the Tyson approach and bite me!
|
| Whoa! |
| Don’t slip up or get got! |
| (Why not man?)
|
| I’m comin for that number one spot! |
| (Alright)
|
| Rappers swearin they on top! |
| (Nuh uh, uh uh)
|
| But I’m comin’for they number one spot! |
| (Alright man)
|
| Scheme scheme, plot plot (say WHAT?)
|
| I’m comin for that number one spot! |
| (Woo, hey)
|
| Keep it goin it won’t stop! |
| (What you doin man?)
|
| I’m comin for that number one spot!
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| Yes indeed, Ludacris I’m hotter than Nevada
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| Ready to break the steerin column on yo’Impala
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| If I get caught, bail out, po'-po'I tell 'em holla
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| In court I never show up, like Austin Powers fa-zha
|
| Father, father, and hey I love gold
|
| But can buy anything I want from the records I’ve sold
|
| Jacuzzi’s hot, Cristal is so cold
|
| Neighbors catch contacts, from the blunts that I’ve rolled
|
| A pig in a blanket, a smoke and a pancake
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| Drop albums non-stop once a year for my fans sake
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| I crush mics until my hand breaks
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| Then shag now and shag later 'til these women can’t stand straight
|
| The Luda-meister got 'em feelin so randy
|
| I’m +XXL+ so I call 'em my +Eye Candy+
|
| Brush my shoulder and I, pop my collar
|
| Cause I’m worth a million ga-zillion fa-fillion dollars
|
| Causin lyrical disasters, it’s the master
|
| Make music for Mini-Me's, models and Fat Bastards
|
| These women tryin yo get me out my Pelle Pelle
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| They strip off my clothes and tell me, «Get in my belly!»
|
| Stay on the track, hit the ground runnin like Flo-Jo
|
| Sent back in time and I’ve never lost my mojo
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| Ladies and gentlemen ahh, boys and girls
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| Ludacris sent down to take over the whole world! |