| I walk in
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| Ric Flair’in', long fur coat wearin'
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| Rolex rockin', silk shirt wearin'
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| Silk socks, and balls need to breathe
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| So bitch the draws cotton cause you gon' suck me when you leave
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| In a big Benzo on Lorenzos
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| With your homegirl LaQuinta who said she never did but she would try it
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| And as she higher than the fuckin' Hyatt
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| She jet settin', Moët'n, the God blesses
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| Against him prospers no weapon, champaignin'
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| Campaignin', gator shoes high steppin'
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| My dopey eyes just hide behind my Dita frames
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| I heard this nigga say he don’t like me, well he the lame
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| It’s not your fault baby
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| We were just here born to shine
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| I walk with a spot on me, my life’s a sax solo
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| The neon sign fritz when I pass in all slo-mo
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| You don’t give the nod, you’d rather not even know me
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| Cause even me existin' is killing your bitch mojo
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| I dance like a JoJo on blow, I cut a rug to a hole
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| Polo undies got my nuts in a choke
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| I’m often stuck in the smoke, the jukebox cut on
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| Without coins, I’m a magical bloke
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| I’ll barracuda you chum for the simple fact that you don’t know how to float
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| Another tragedy aborted, I’m a bad news bear, babe
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| I’m armed with a hanger of coats, you’ll get poked
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| Now your mom’s got a new lease on life, a new hope
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| It’s not your fault baby
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| We were just here born to shine
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| A nigga like me just pull up, flight club, foreign or domestic
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| International player but also locally respected
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| Savannah Chitlin pimpin', drippin', and stankin' like the juice do
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| Since baby needed pampers and that Laker needed them new shoe'
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| Make 'em call me B.B. King because I give that bitch the blues
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| Now she down on bended knee because she wanna lick the jewels
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| And I’m slick, 'bout to run up in her smooth with this dick
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| Take a couple polaroids to capture the mo-moment
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| Now she’s caught up in the rapture of this mackin', where your ho went?
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| In the back of the Cadillac, she gaggin', ass and titties showin'
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| As a matter of fact, I’m 'bout to splash her with this Billy Ocean
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| And watch her rub it on her face, I call it Johnson’s baby lotion
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| It’s not your fault baby
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| We were just here born to shine
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| Kill Bill-in' up this whole damn house and shine
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| Steppin' over you fuck boy clowns and shine
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| Hey! |
| Like Mr. Brown and shine
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| I’m moonwalkin', wanna kiss myself and shine
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| Hugh Heffin' all your bitches out and shine
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| Shine
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| Shine
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| Shine
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| Shine |