| Uh, uh, uh, uh
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| I’m automatical, infatical, radical even
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| I wanna clearr all the misconceptions and shit ya believe in
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| I’m leavin' nothin' to the imagination
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| I won’t stop on my Emancipation Proclamation
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| Through the radio stations
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| Facin' me, ain’t that hard but it ain’t that easy
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| Like I don’t know when to play hard and when to play easy
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| Believe me, George and Weezie couldn’t move up this fast
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| I’m lappin' errybody can’t tell if I’m first or last
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| It won’t hurt ya ass, but it might hurt yo ass
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| To come trippin', find derrty got the perfect stash
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| The perfect gat, left in ya ass thought I would run
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| Laughin' at them niggas who thought derrty was done
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| I’m a, son a g, I’m not a son of bitch
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| I’m makin' sure that my son and my sons gon be rich
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| Daughters and my daughters in no particular order
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| I leave em layin up out the water wit straps to protect they ball up
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| Cuz I call it
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| I need some Kool-Aid (Whaa?)
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| Wit my red hot riplets
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| (Tell em what ya-tell em what mean man)
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| You all that and a bag of chips
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| And I just wanna know if me and you can dip
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| That’s all
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| Baby girl you sweeter than Kool-Aid, the red flavor
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| «Ooh that’s my favorite», yeah I know my game is major
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| She gave me her card, she said I can page her
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| I was gon wait a couple of days but I did her a favor
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| Call her now, invite myself awake the neighbors
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| Beatin' loud, swoopin' like a caped crusader
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| Without the cape, without the tights
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| Her baby daddy was the type to have a truck like mine
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| No beach rims, no door pipes
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| Of course that, I love her apple bottom short set
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| She got upset, I said she couldn’t fire up a cigarette
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| Small brat, ain’t used to cats wit short stacks
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| If you ask me for summin, drop her off where the porch at
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| I’m on a mission, turn the keys in the ignition
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| Beat steady, beatin' Tweeter steady whistlin'
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| She’s seen my glisten, started to trip
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| Murph, she’s all that and a bag of chips
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| I need some Kool-Aid (Whaa?)
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| Wit my red hot riplets
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| (Tell em what ya-tell em what mean man)
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| You all that and a bag of chips
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| And I just wanna know if me and you can dip
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| That’s all
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| Look, I want some mushu whether I’m in Cali or Cancun
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| No goin' out, I like to stay in my damn room
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| (Damn!) She got a donkey-o, this must be a damn zoo
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| (Ooh!) Look at the monkey yo, she must be a baboon!
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| Please don’t feed me mama I’m like an animal
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| Especially after 12, can you handle my stamina?
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| You won’t believe the things I say when you walk by
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| My game cool but when it’s on but it’s hot when I talk high
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| Now ought I, take you home but am I wrong
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| I’m a kid ma, you know I don’t wanna be Home Alone
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| Plus I felt summin therre when we was dancin' on that song
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| I like togetherness, can we all get along?
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| Can we all, get in my car and talk about it in the morn'
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| And make decisions when wake up and yawn
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| Come on, you can tell me if you like it or not
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| Cuz I’ma have my Kool-Aid and my riplets red hot
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| I need some Kool-Aid (Whaa?)
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| Wit my red hot riplets
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| (Tell em what ya-tell em what mean man)
|
| You all that and a bag of chips
|
| And I just wanna know if me and you can dip
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| That’s all
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| Yo, yo, them muthafuckas just too damn hot
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| Nigga like the pie in the window
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| Cross the gun line and even get shot to find the indo
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| Eatin' red hot, riplets promotin' passin' out snippets
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| Seen you walkin' wit the triplets, I’m clubbin lookin' terrific
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| I need some Kool-Aid, shiit I got to get it wit it
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| Put my spoon up in ya pitcher see if it fit up in it
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| (And) smoke for a second (And) told her I’ll wreck it
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| Told her groupie connection, got in the room and told her get naked
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| Told the Lunatics, told her how I reflect it
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| Lemme show you from the Show-Me, no talk fo sho respect it
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| And ya red hot, butt and now ya say ya hearin' not
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| It’s the rap Fred Flintstone, I makin' the Bed Rock
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| I give it to ya never failin ya, handlin' business I’m tellin' ya
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| You ever need me again I’ma be through in on my celluar
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| And I’ma store y’all never on the red hot riplets and Kool-Aid
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| (Kool-Aid!).I need my money nigga. |