| Remember when I could save a little pinky
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| Now I count 10 bands and pinkies
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| Big waps, shotguns and .50's
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| .44 deadly, spin dat quickly
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| Jump out gang
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| Jump out gang we leave the opp block looking smoky and litty
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| We make racks and we crash
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| Fry up the place like we work in a chippy
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| My young niggas way too chingy
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| Or more time he makes phone line ringy
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| Bro just stepped out blingy, cold as fuck, too chilly
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| Smoke in dem cookies, thinking deep I need paper like Diddy
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| Man stepped out on violence, man came round on fuckree
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| Me, I got 5 for a big .45, can’t lie the buss me
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| If I got back yet, I would’ve been mad, swear down trust me
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| Free 9Goddy, young trap boss who fucks up country
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| Real life stuff, no pokies
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| My main darg, dem go walkies
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| Go Tinsel Town with a .40
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| 2 tings at a table was awkward
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| 5.0 put Wes on in the jailhouse
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| My gosh, there still on the mandem
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| Chilling, also were oso active
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| Bare man been grabbed with cannons
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| My bro like Liquez got paper
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| Lines on, online like data
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| No Angolans like Craper
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| Slowz ain’t on games like Sega
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| Yh I lay girls down like carpet
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| Your gyal wants to tastes mans
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| Young boys couldn’t fuck with R6
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| Stone Isl little bone takes target
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| The reasons they hate on we
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| Take a look at my life success
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| Can’t you see I’m all in diamonds?
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| 4 racks in my mouth I spent
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| If you wanna work with we
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| Your look at a next expense
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| Cos you still need dem bands
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| Don’t care if you spend them on friends
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| 674, Imma ride to the end
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| All for my brothers, I rise up the skeng
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| I do this for real, I don’t fucking with 10
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| Still up on my block, I’m still up in the ends
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| Thanking the lord, I came out of the pen
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| Free all my brothers that got over 10
|
| Remember when I could save a little pinky
|
| Now I count 10 bands and pinkies
|
| Big waps, shotguns and .50's
|
| .44 deadly, spin dat quickly
|
| Jump out gang
|
| Jump out gang we leave the opp block looking smoky and litty
|
| I need paper like Diddy
|
| 4 doors and blickies
|
| Jump out gang
|
| Jump out gang, come round leave everything icky
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| You don’t wanna be a big man running and getting hit, don’t be silly
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| How many man got grabbed for waps?, The block hot like a chilly
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| Snoopz in the mains with a big bike, moving like he’s Infilly
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| Money haffi make, I thank god that I’m busy
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| Making doe, im on 17 like a gilet
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| Tryna slap a dome, diamonds twerk like a bitch from Philly
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| I’ve seen your racks
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| I can spend dat and make dat back
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| New year, new plug
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| That means no more chilling with kats
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| It’s been 6 years, I can finally say welcome home trap
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| Back, dem man did a bait face
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| When we turned up and got a you wacked
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| These days man glide with the stem
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| Nack dem did it with Max
|
| Should be sitting down for a while
|
| So I know I ain’t chilling with racks
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| They want me on the wing all summer
|
| There’s no way I’m looking through flats
|
| Bro put 20 on his wrist
|
| It’s so bait he’s delivering packs
|
| Remember when I could save a little pinky
|
| Now I count 10 bands and pinkies
|
| Big waps, shotguns and .50's
|
| .44 deadly, spin dat quickly
|
| Jump out gang
|
| Jump out gang we leave the opp block looking smoky and litty
|
| We make racks and we crash
|
| Fry up the place like we work in a chippy
|
| My young niggas way too chingy
|
| Or more time he makes phone line ringy
|
| Bro just stepped out blingy, cold as fuck, too chilly
|
| Smoke in dem cookies, thinking deep I need paper like Diddy |