| My Shirley Temples bang like a bang
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| I like it when my new suits hang off the hanger
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| It’s like it’s clear as crystal, it’s referee official
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| The homey said he liked the sound he hear when bullets whistle
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| I drive a automatic, I spit it like a addict
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| I’m tellin’baby girl with the curl she got talent
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| I’m somthin’like a candle, dealin’with the wax
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| That’s me and you baby girl rollin in the 'Lac
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| Would you holla back
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| With G stacks baby bubble up fifty
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| This dedicated to those who hustle it with me I came clean took it back to the basic
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| From 'Frisco the fastest track in the nation
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| You could hate on a star, I’m takin’it far
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| This ain’t Hustle &Flow, I don’t wait in the car (hell naw)
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| I’m no choffuer, yes man, no sir, so sure
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| I could put her down right on your turf
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| The G’S come in three’s like piano keys
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| If your honey going buzzin’with those honey bees
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| And banana tree’s and fly can of peas
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| And ladies that be lookin’like they vanity
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| Man that cotton candy flow through my soul
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| Man baby said she like my style and never let it go
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| I’m Jack Art
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| Candle stick parked in the Skylark
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| Tennis shoes, bad news
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| Student of the rap move, rhyme jewels
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| We know Joe got 'em walkin’the plank
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| And boss us like Tony when he talkin’to Frank
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| We’d be hoppin’out the van bags all in the bank
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| And playin’it to perfection we call it the game
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| Glow rimulate, on the field smile like Donovan
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| We stay awhile, let me work up on your confidence
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| You know they gon’hate, fake hoes interogate
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| Put her down on same blade, mayne it’s fair play
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| My eyes are on the target, I picture Panasonic
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| I move through the crowd and try to hit her with the knowledge
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| Man let a backer bake, she’s a vanilla shake
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| I like the strawberry sauce on my Cheesecake
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| I dip around the lake, when it’s queit like awake
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| And when it come to game I try to crack it like a safe
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| The sun goes down I dissappear in the shadows
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| Only to reappear in the streets of Seattle
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| I like the style of the Kenneth Coles
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| I come around third man runnin’like I’m Pete Rose
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| And when I concentrate I do it like it’s free throws
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| I tell Noah, he’ll sink ridin’these flows
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| Man double up, you better buckle-n-buckle and roll with me I put a little twist and I mix it with poetry
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| Man two dimes could be the road to fine vines
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| Never have to listen, never standin’in line
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| Man why walk baby girl when you can ride
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| And from the looks of it girl it’s cold outside
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| Time after time I be workin’with the rhyme
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| Seventh in line of my zodiac sign
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| Man ricochet game off your frame in your mind
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| I know you think it’s fun cause it ain’t no crime
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| What you talkin’bout (what you talkin’bout) |