| Uh-huh, uh-huh
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| That fish, that money, Bubba Sparxxx.
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| Uhh
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| Now allow me to present the very first resident
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| Of this millenium mindframe, no angel but heaven-sent
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| So make a print on this landscape and when it’s little as a handshake
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| I convince you to think of Bubba as yo' brother the color of mayonnaise
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| We lockin up these airwaves from LaGrange to that staircase
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| And your projects up in Queens with no budgets nothin but dreams
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| I consume me a couple of Beams now I’m feelin like life is wonderful
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| Got me seein past the lies that otherwise make me uncomfortable
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| I’m peepin out this jungle full of snakes, tigers and elephants
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| All huntin the same prey but the chase got them all negligent
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| And Betty looks so elegent but our motive’s dirty like sediments
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| It takes more to make Bubba sway to slick talk at handsome measurements
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| Fuck it I’m turnin celibate — nah, I’m only playin
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| If yo' lady listenin now, takin her on home but she stayin
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| I bet y’all think he playin when he tellin y’all he the first
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| Whutchacallit, alcoholic, with that 32-gallon thrist
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| Who was the first whutchacallit? |
| Actin foolish at yo' function
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| The first whutchacallit — tryin out yo' daughter’s suction
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| The first whutchacallit — lookin clean and still stankin
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| The first whutchacallit — in your head has gotcha thinkin
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| I’m the first whutchacallit — spinnin frequent in yo' city
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| The first whutchacallit — every weekend gettin shitty
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| The first whutchacallit — ridin chrome just because
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| I’m the first whutchacallit — with some nuts all in my drawers
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| You probably saw me out in Kaia lit pushin up on Mya
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| When the vibe ask her why I bet she say that I’m a liar
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| But I feel like I’m that fire and these bitches share that sentiment
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| My project’s in the woods scarin like the Blair Witch with
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| Flippin it, from one roll to another head then cut her
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| In the back, another knack, now picture that without a rubber
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| Out the cutter twistin green, listenin to what you seen
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| That slick shit you spit get nada, not a fuckin thing
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| Fuckin Queens small time but mostly it’s just bear holes
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| And assholes with Aloe but I guess you know how that goes
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| I’m shallow for now, but wait a second, it gets deeper
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| I’m through cryin over her cause after this shit I want neither
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| I’m off the meter totin heaters cause you showed me that’s the sensity
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| A country Caucasoid talkin noise cause it’s my destiny
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| What you thought it was ain’t nothin like what it is
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| From the swats up to your neck, got every cent bumpin in
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| Hey man forgive me if the thought of Bubba woke you from yo' sleep
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| But next time, get that phlegm up out your throat before you speak
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| Why won’t you just compete instead of mumblin petty shit?
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| Or let me visit witcho' gul to see how wet that Betty get
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| Very sick how I spit, next let’s hit the next millenium
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| I’m fuckin with the best, then I kill the rest, I pity 'em
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| Oh Bubba K’s the silly one — hmm, that Sparxxx my interest
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| We lose so many units that the fuckin charts exempt us
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| For me to guard is endless, got me tryna get some ice
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| So I can see the pray to Christ, cause right now I’m hatin life
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| I won’t never take advice so let me be to find myself
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| And even though I can’t see I beg you Lord for helpin well
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| And whoever else that felt my plight, I hope you take flight
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| The flaws, snappin jaws, no applause, exit stage right
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| From daylight to the day gone if you ain’t wrong stay strong
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| And show these fuckin faggots seven figures they can hate on
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| Whutchacallit, get yo' ass up, get yo' ass up, get yo' ass up
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| Get yo' ass up, get yo' ass up, get yo' ass up boy, get yo' ass up
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| . |
| Like that, 9−6, (?)
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| . |
| Bubba K, Khalifani on the beat
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| . |
| Rip the face off of this bitch
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| . |
| G.A. |
| mob up in this bitch, like that
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| . |
| Baby give me love |