| When I die bring a hundred million roses
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| Pretty bad bitches making love to my posters
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| In my cardigans, two lugged teeth
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| Threw ice in it, so I feel the breeze
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| Two thug bitches, thinkin about them G’s
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| Who love the hood, they’ll never leave
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| Four model bitches stay popping E
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| On that buga suga, rolling up the trees
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| Spit hella game in her skinny frame
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| Versace frames, and her dirty beans
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| She fuck her friends, then fuck my friends
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| This story go, it will never end
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| And if I die before I wake, I pray that ASAP will be great
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| My mama good and my girl be late
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| So there will be another me and the world be straight
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| Damn that nigga did his thang, he took over and changed the game
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| His silk shirt, versace frames, his fly ass bitches
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| His tight ass jeans, his dirty benz, his cuban links
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| His big ass smile, his eyes is chinked
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| His brown ass skin, he was looking gold
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| He really lived, god bless his soul
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| When I die bring a hundred million roses
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| Pretty bad bitches making love to my posters
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| Roses, bring a hundred million roses
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| Roses, bring a hundred million roses
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| Tell that bitch that I’m Fergie Ferg
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| Remind her I’m rich but never flip a bird
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| Yes a nigga street, just like the curb
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| Young Bari high, fucking with the herd
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| Rest in peace to Selena
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| Listen to you sing when I’m rolling the weed up
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| Mix the Cristal with tequila
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| Might fuck your bitch but I don’t want to kill her
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| I beat that bitch, flash backs to Tina
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| I feel like Ike when I’m on the mic
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| And my dyer butcher, vera wang
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| Vera wang slang bitches for their brain
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| And 40 ounce bounce, thug bitches with the fangs
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| Who fill the block up with cocaine
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| When I die bring a hundred million roses
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| Pretty bad bitches making love to my posters
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| Roses, bring a hundred million roses
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| Roses, bring a hundred million roses |