| Damn, what a difference a year and a hundred and 12 days makes
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| Came the longest country mile, thanks to nothin they gave me I made breaks
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| Basically baby, I’ve been great, this ain’t no recent development
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| But now it’s official, I’m the doo-doo;
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| And you ain’t gon' keep 'em from smellin it
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| Do you have a speaking impediment bitch, or are you just at a loss for words
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| Oh-no actually I’m monogomous, all that talk was false you heard
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| So don’t stall betty just slurp, of course I’mma tell you when
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| Oops my bad that’s my mistake, I was just gonna tell you then
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| I just bought me 5 new Polos, cuz see I’m partial to that logo
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| That horse is just so Bubba, that means rural like you don’t know
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| Regardless though I’m gon' glow, even in my birthday suit
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| And when it comes to that soft, yes sir’ee I circle that too
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| So when you feel it poundin in yo' chest and it causes a slight pain
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| Just shake it off and smile I got’cha, doin the white thangs ok
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| I’m outdoors early mo’nin sellin this country crock
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| Let’s get this understood, gotta get me off the top
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| I got them break down dimes and bomb with twenty-fives on the block
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| Of that 'naw that hawd, talkin 'bout that glass that straight drop
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| Bartender, send me Remi, Henny or straight shot
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| Then see me flee, high speed from eight cops
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| Leave 'em floored, showin how I’m opposed, y’all can’t stop
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| Jumped the fence, went down the path, came out by Ms. Dot 'partment
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| Ay, ay Bubba Sparxx shoot we down to the spot
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| Them young G’s up on that corner, done made the porch hot
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| Them folk say they sweepin, seekin 'He who hold stock'
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| Ay, run tell shawty, cut off, close shop
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| I told them boys down there, homes in the van was a NARC
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| Tell 'em «Naw we don’t sell that shit round here doc»
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| They bout four cars deep, sittin in the Croger parkin lot
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| But we know when they comin, cuz money bark a lot
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| I’m seein more clearly now, how subtle the difference between us might be
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| Mr. Fat Face got that big weight but still that seem just like me
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| I’m doin my thing dispite these, little lifestyle expectations
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| Y’all chose to set for me, shit I’m headed to where my next check waitin
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| Look here, beat me I’m old school like LL J beatin off in your Regal
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| With six eights cross the deck, hittin, sittin on fifteen inch eagles
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| And Vogues, case closed, order one mo' get drunk, throw bo’s
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| We in here puttin on, all night y’all 'til the place close |