| Back once a-motherfucking-gain
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| Come here mirror, bring yourself to me
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| I want you to see the beauty you’ve created
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| Caddy got the brown hard top just like the Créme Brulée
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| Crack it… I mean retract it
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| The bitches they think I’m attractive
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| That means I’m sexually active
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| Hang out with actors and chefs
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| Gray Beamer, swing the left, BBS’s
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| Flip out the roof, land in a split
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| Handle my shit
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| Straight from Flushing, Queens
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| Where them hammers get gripped
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| A fiend will suck your dick
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| For a gram of the sniff
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| I been gorgeous, mid-August
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| Twin Porsches, three floor loft
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| Diana Ross, blow my nostrils with the tan cloth
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| Five in the mornin' drinkin' coffee smokin' Kents
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| With the teased hair, doggy everywhere we be’s there
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| You can touch, like the coach and the gymnast
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| Baby I been this
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| Pouches of tuna, Ounces of Uma
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| The '89 station wagon, Mercury Sable
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| Forest Green, forest park, Horace Grant
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| It’s me |