| Sun down to sun up
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| When I’m around, they don’t never put the guns down
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| My brother told me I cost too much to risk
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| And on top of that, I be talking too much shit
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| But fuck it, nigga gon' tell 'em roger that
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| What I do, they follow that
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| Don’t spit that out, gir, l swallow that
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| Mr. Get The Head, don’t call her back
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| I got groupie bitches in my DM asking for a follow back
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| I know niggas trap morning to P. M, 24/7, you can call the trap
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| I am not a rapper, baby, I don’t like to call it rap
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| Official book bag boy, everybody 'round me strapped
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| Don’t know what happened to that last boy
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| Ain’t nobody 'round me clap
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| Disrespect this shit, he on your ass, boy, that’s my lil' soulja there
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| You can pull up anytime of day, bet my lil' soulja there
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| Bitch, it’s over, I thought I told you that
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| Ayy, you too messy, why you posting that?
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| I can rally tell them boys to spin that bitch
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| But we too clos for that
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| Like, we don’t know where they loafing at
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| No, we ain’t playing, call a coach for that
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| Another win, make a toast to that
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| Just got a call, say I’m in Rolling Stone
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| Thinking I’m hotter than your favorite rapper
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| Ain’t got a chain or a Rollie on now
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| Now I got to go get another phone
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| New number, you can’t call this one
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| Everybody would have the knowledge if we all listened
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| Tryna walk but they ain’t craw with me
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| I can’t trip, shit, my dawg switching
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| This whole different type of living
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| But a lot of shit ain’t y’all business
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| I just filled a opp ho up with back shots, all Ricky’s
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| Shit, I tried to let the bro hit her but I know my dawg picky
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| But fuck it, nigga gon' tell 'em roger that
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| What I do, they follow that
|
| Don’t spit that out, gir, l swallow that
|
| Mr. Get The Head, don’t call her back
|
| I got groupie bitches in my DM asking for a follow back
|
| I know niggas trap morning to P. M, 24/7, you can call the trap
|
| I am not a rapper, baby, I don’t like to call it rap
|
| Official book bag boy, everybody 'round me strapped
|
| Don’t know what happened to that last boy
|
| Ain’t nobody 'round me clap
|
| Disrespect this shit, he on your ass, boy, that’s my lil' soulja there
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| You got the drop, she there, so focus there
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| Don’t let nobody know you there
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| Don’t take no pics, don’t post you there
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| Big Wildchild, you know it’s rare
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| Anytime she text me dollar signs, shit, I know it’s her
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| So what I do? |
| I keep it player
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| Like, keep it cute, go get your nails done
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| My Uncle Don a Muslim, I’m covered by every prayer
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| Mama a Christian, when I get to tripping
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| She put holy water behind my ear
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| But I’m thuggin' thy shall not fear, forgive 'em thy shall not kill
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| That’s what my OG told me
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| And every nigga played with him got hit
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| 2014, it got real, still traumatized, that’s why I got pills
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| Heard my lil' brother died, I just caught chills
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| Fresh bomb, jit say he finna off his
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| I tried to tell 'em them niggas playing lost still
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| But fuck it, nigga gon' tell 'em roger that
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| What I do, they follow that
|
| Don’t spit that out, gir, l swallow that
|
| Mr. Get The Head, don’t call her back
|
| I got groupie bitches in my DM asking for a follow back
|
| I know niggas trap morning to P. M, 24/7, you can call the trap
|
| I am not a rapper, baby, I don’t like to call it rap
|
| Official book bag boy, everybody 'round me strapped
|
| Don’t know what happened to that last boy
|
| Ain’t nobody 'round me clap
|
| Disrespect this shit, he on your ass, boy, that’s my lil' soulja there |