| I hit the bank, cash out
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| Get in her homie, she pokin' her ass out
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| Swerve in the Lambo, hide by the crash out
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| Put the foreign in reverse and I back out
|
| Big racks, act out
|
| Deuce in the Faygo, I’m bout to pass out
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| ATM 'round here so I gotta max out
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| Dope in the knapsack, work in the traphouse
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| It’s too much gas in the air
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| Sippin' on Wock, ain’t no box, I can’t breathe, uh
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| Nigga reach for my chain, yeah, I dare
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| I whip out the Glock, hit his heart, make him bleed
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| Got these niggas, they mad 'cause I get to the cheese
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| Now they all in my face 'cause I got to the green, bitch
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| Every day lookin' cozy, them racks in my jeans
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| In the trap with the pack, got the Glock on my spleen
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| I see too many niggas tryna be on the team
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| If you play with it, burn that nigga whip again
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| Got a Glock on the seat, hoppin' out in Supreme
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| Mix up the Balmain with the Rick Owen jeans, yeah
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| I’m hot, I need a fan
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| These niggas be hatin' but I know they fans
|
| When I’m steppin' in Prada, don’t fuck with the Vans
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| The thirty clip on me, ain’t usin' no hands, uh
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| Choppers, Dracos, pipes
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| I’ma walk down, caught an opp at the light
|
| Step in Dolce Gabbana, my drip looking right
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| In the trap with them cutters, ain’t totin' no knife
|
| Everybody keep saying, «Marr, what you gon' do?»
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| I can’t fuck with these niggas, these niggas be fu'
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| And I got a bad bitch who can’t fuck 'cause she rude
|
| Put that bitch in Chanel, she got stuck like some glue
|
| Yeah, it’s up, huh, burning more gas than a pump
|
| If he come down that one-way, that boy out of luck
|
| I ain’t keepin' out, ho, I just came here to bust, yeah, yeah
|
| If I’ma shoot, I aim, don’t pop in the air
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| Just fucked up them Ones, had to go buy a new pair
|
| If you ain’t check in, you wonder why you here
|
| Beat on a ho with a ho, come see that
|
| Nigga beat down your block, got you screamin' out, wonder
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| And your bitch wanna fuck with the kid, she a gunner
|
| Got a big AR and that bitch get to drummin'
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| I just walked out the bank countin' twenties and hundreds
|
| Ran off on the plug, now they call me a runner
|
| I’ma flex on the opps, they gon' call me a stunner
|
| And my trap get to jumpin', they call me the pumper
|
| I’m in here with the fifth, bullets hit 'em, they thumpin', ooh
|
| I hit the bank, cash out
|
| Get in her homie, she pokin' her ass out
|
| Swerve in the Lambo, hide by the crash out
|
| Put the foreign in reverse and I back out
|
| Big racks, act out
|
| Deuce in the Faygo, I’m bout to pass out
|
| ATM 'round here so I gotta max out
|
| Dope in the knapsack, work in the traphouse |