| Turn me up, turn my mic up
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| Turn my mic up, turn my mic up
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| Turn my mic up.
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| I’m a paid nigga, live my life
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| On the streets, from the cradle to the grave nigga
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| I’m a made nigga, got no time for you bitches
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| And you bustas, I’m a paid nigga
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| I’m a paid nigga, living laid nigga
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| Candy sprayed Escalade, valet nigga
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| Slamming foreign do’s, jamming foreign hoes
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| See me spo’ting nothing but ice, man I’m feeling cold
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| I’m a South boy, you run your mouth boy
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| 40 caliber’ll, take a nigga out boy
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| Still pimping, platinum albums we shipping
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| Got them girls in the club, steady stripping
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| We still gripping grain, we still swang and bang
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| Got that new Hummer 2, with that wide frame
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| Kicking like Shenobi, niggas say they know me
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| I be balling like I’m playing, next to Shaq and Kobi
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| Nigga pass the do-di, cause mayn I’m going off
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| Just spent a quarter mill, on that new house
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| This the new South, coming with the blue frost
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| First nigga, in the hood with the blue mouth
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| Still living lavish, still got to have it
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| Just like a fat rabbit, gotta have them carrots |
| Three in my ear, twenty on my arm
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| Ten in my teeth, fifteen on my charm
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| Johnnie hooked me up, labels look me up
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| The way we shine down South, got em shooken up
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| Burberry Jags, Burberry rags
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| 4−4 mag, make my Burberry sag
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| Steady dropping heat, niggas can’t compete
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| Got the new Navigator, with the fold out seats
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| Banging Chris beats, flowing on a platinum mic
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| I’m in the studio, staying up all night
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| Back to back nigga, platinum tracks nigga
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| Gotta stack mo' figgas, like my name was Jigga
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| I keep shit knocking, so quit baller blocking
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| Trying to stack mo' paper, then the Johnnie Cochran
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| Look at the Benz look at the house, Gucci seats Gucci couch
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| Man I think I’m balling out, the way my screens be falling out
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| Like them diamonds I be shining, like the Clipse it got me grinding
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| Bet this year I’ll make a mill, way before I get the deal
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| Wood wheel gripping steel, coming down with the bumping grill
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| Blowing kill we keep it trill, I know they hate but we keep it real
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| I’m a G I know, and my trunk on glow
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| And if them boys want a show, I’m ten G’s or mo' |
| Stacking paper tall, as if them scrapers dog
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| What you want I got it all, I’m making paper dog
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| Stack them D’s (stack them D’s), sell em cheap (sell em cheap)
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| Never tell, is the code of the streets
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| I’m a paid nigga, sitting on blades nigga
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| Got the crib with the maid nigga, automatic shades nigga
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| Made nigga, never been a slave nigga
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| I’m a brave nigga, pop trunk wave nigga |