| I just popped an RP, that’s a real perky
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| Lost a bar in '05 and it still hurt me
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| Drunk a 12 oz of clean now my ribs hurting
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| Hit your bitch in your crib, hope your kids heard me
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| Shot this Glock a bunch of times, but it’s still working
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| Everybody telling now, I’m starting to feel nervous
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| On my way to Daly City for a pill purchase, what you know about a thousand pack
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| of M30s
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| 2Shott say he wanna go, he just need a rental
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| 2 bad hoes in Palm Springs, spend the weekend with them
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| All I hang around is scandalous and sketchy niggas
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| So he probably got a pistol if you see me with them
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| If she ain’t talking selling pussy I might reconsider
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| Your bitch rode the dick, stuck my wee-wee in her
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| Heard we mixing lactose, tell me bring my blender
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| First day I sign my deal, imma bring my niggas
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| First day I sign my deal, imma call my plug, and the lean man; |
| bring me all my
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| drugs
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| It feel like I robbed a bank with all these god damn dubs
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| I just mixed the drank, nigga I’m poured up
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| Everytime I hit the county I did not roll up
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| In my cell rolling reefer that’s how I rolled up
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| 500 for the hustling, you wear 501s
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| When it was time to catch a body, you did not go once
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| Ain’t gone speak about them bodies, no, I’m better than that
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| But I hate them niggas, confederate flag
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| I only smoke exotic weed cuz it help me relax
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| Prolly by myself, but I’m heavily strapped
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| Verse 2: Sada Baby
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| Used to drink liquour, beat niggas up in my 501s
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| Now it’s blue hundreds and Amiri’s, these is not no 1s
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| Ask the motherfucking **, they ain’t got no guns
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| All em bitches, got the scopes legs and the drums
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| I put my elbow on that shit when I remix the pack
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| I got my foot all in the pot, fiends be tasting that
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| I say I step all on that dope, I put my soul in it
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| They say it’s smoke up in the air, we put your soul in it
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| She want hit the blade for me, then I’m gone send her home
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| Imma killer and he pushed me so I did him wrong
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| Should have listened to his momma told him leave me 'lone
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| AR on me do him bad; |
| talking to the bone
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| You wouldn’t know no top side if it was on your stove
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| Got my first bands hand to hand, wasn’t on no phone
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| First bands ain’t come off no scam got em off the road
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| Transportin em cash cuz down the way I should have poured one
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| Nigga you don’t remember glass pints, you never sold one
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| Now have me sipping Akorn, miss the old ones
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| I drop a 4, pop a perc, bitch I’m on one
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| No *** I can’t fuck with the long ones
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| In my opinion RPs is the strong ones
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| Them things let you hit that monk-a-donk
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| Give her perc dick in the whip think she homeless
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| Hit that chicken tender from the back til she boneless
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| I know I ain’t got it all, ain’t gotta tell me that
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| Nigga pulled up with the fake joints can’t sell me that
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| Made me kill you and your daddy, where the hell he at?
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| Like who the fuck sent you my way, where the hell he from?
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| Fuck around get to shooting at everybody better tell me somethin
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| Chopstick hold a hunnid somebody tell me why the hell he running
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| Louboutin Glock like yella beezy got the LB bussin
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| All the whips red with the Hemis you can tell we bomin
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| Verse 3: Rio Da Yung OG
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| Ay, what up boogie down, everybody getting money nigga look around
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| We in the club smoking big, make em shut it down
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| I guess I’m finna smoke a nigga, ain’t no Runtz around
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| I’m in Cali, getting high, drinking Morten Grove
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| Used to be a dusty nigga I ain’t poured no mo'
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| Used to hit a different bitch every day, I ain’t a whore no mo'
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| Caught a case, 50 on a lawyer, I ain’t got court no mo'
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| The first day I sign my deal I’m buying a hunnid Glocks
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| 60 FNs and like twenty chops
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| I make a 20 strip a week, I used to punch the clock
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| Started beefing when it hot and got his brother shot
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| I got some new cut for the dog that look like butterscotch
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| A nigga say he caught me slipping that’s a fucking lie
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| You woulda died in 14 days like a butterfly
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| Caught him at the light and blew his ass with a rusty 9
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| Now you can’t cuz you just had to watch yo cousin die (terrible)
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| 40 shots, imma squeeze it til the muzzle hot
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| My granny listen to my music, I can’t cuss a lot (shh)
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| When I was broke my bitch was mad, she used to fuss a lot
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| Now I got pape, I be fucking til my muscles lock
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| All tears, 501s this a hustler now (damn)
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| I might get teary-eyed I’m in here onion chopping
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| Who need some adderall 30s? |
| I think my uncle got em (I think bo got em)
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| Catch an opp on halloween, he getting his pumpkin popped
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| We got a new plug on the lean, ain’t no running out
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| I might put ** on pint and make a hundred ounces
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| That nigga prolly feeling good, I bet his stomach not
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| A nigga system backed up, he need a plunger now
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| Let the plug give me the back, gave him the run-around
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| Caught an opp walking outta court and I punched him out
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| 308. got power, aim it at a tree and cut it down
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| (Yeahhhh, what up boog nigga it’s Rio in this bitch
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| Boys and you know whats going on) |