| You know I get it, pretty girls keep ya boy fitted
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| Cattin off in my new shit, fuck a speed limit
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| Doing 90, spend a week in Hawaii
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| Blow 50 on a new chain, the feds wanna fine me
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| The radio probably won’t play this
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| But the homies in the pen gon' bang it
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| The coke made me famous
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| This handgun is stainless, 24 karat gold
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| That vintage shit you rock, it’s plated
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| A few million dollar companies, I created
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| Got me up late night, feeling all anxious
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| Break a brick open, taste it
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| I go through phases
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| Latin girls and Asians, exchanging fuck faces
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| I made a couple hundred grand out my basement
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| 20 lights had me high outside and sliding in my spaceship
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| ATL, Las Vegas and Texas
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| Let’s make a toast, we done got rich together
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| They won’t play this on the radio (naw)
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| All I talk about is yayo (yeah)
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| 20 grams on my scale (yeah)
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| A hundred piece in the mail yo
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| Politicking late night where the fiends are
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| Pulling out exotic smoke, out the weed jar
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| M6 BMR pour. |
| up til the leans gone
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| 501 jeans on, baby told me keep going
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| Met her at the strip club, she live across the bridge
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| Left her man, he a sucka, he ain’t about his biz
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| I seen shit to make the average man flip out
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| Is he really real? |
| Would he really sit down?
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| 20 sacks and try and keep all my hundreds
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| Imma buy ‘em all, and put ‘em up while it’s flooded
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| When it’s dry, I’m the man again, pop an Ativan
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| Hit the mall, see my line on a mannequin
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| Lost a pack again, now I’m panicking
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| Why this happening? |
| It’s hard to get the package in
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| Trafficking, makes me never want to rap again
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| You won’t hear this on the radio, during traffic jam
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| They won’t play this on the radio (naw)
|
| All I talk about is yayo (yeah)
|
| 20 grams on my scale (yeah)
|
| A hundred piece in the mail yo
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| Radio, radio, radio
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| Yayo, yayo, yayo
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| Scale, scale, scale
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| Mail yo, mail yo, mail yo |