| I love my children
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| God can get another divorce, of course baby
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| Every Goddamn month, as long as I floss baby
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| I can’t even? |
| , I’m grinding 'bout my business
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| But I’m taking the Playstation and I’m kicking it with bitches
|
| Sipping on an Apple Martini on granny’s porch
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| Yeah I called her granny I was an orphan
|
| And I’m back on my ether grinding support on my porcelain
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| Light on the side of this rocking chair reserved for bosses
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| Wit' Tip, Black and Milds, we be thinking?
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| Back wit' Metacalfe, homie up for extortion, nigga
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| Went away
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| I contemplated my return
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| But now im back and here to remain
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| And make it burn baby burn baby
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| How ya been? |
| Introduce me to your friend
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| I see her checking me out
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| Back on the scene
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| My demeanor
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| Finna put these bitches to the test
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| Rest assured
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| Measure up to your niggas Flesh
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| I got a raw state of mind
|
| And that raw state of mind got me on the borderline of doing crime
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| I promise
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| Do what I can on my children smoking weed
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| She got stitches in her face, take a piss like Mami B I’m heated
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| You’ll never see it, that’s just the way I?
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| Down in Cleveland wit' my niggas no more kids wit' raggedy bitches hey!
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| One hundred chemists killed the city like Biggie did
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| Hell yeah I (carried?) with any nigga I kicked it with
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| E’ry nigga in the hood I protect Pac better than Suge
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| Puffy is better wit' Big, Bone thugs-n-Harmony stood
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| Mo Thug is all for the bud, they think Kray killed rock
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| Naw he Jehovah witness spitting on your wicked blocks |