| I know you love my body, babe — yeah
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| I know you love my body, babe — yeah
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| I know you love my body, babe — yeah yeah, yeah yeah
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| Turn up…
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| Turn up…
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| Money on my mind — Bonnie, you be Clyde
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| Don’t you wanna ride or die? |
| ‘Cause I keep it tight
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| Work a 9−5, he be on his grind
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| Red-bottoms and Louboutins, you know the things I like
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| Give me all your money 'cause they don’t do it like I
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| Hundred bottles I pour every night, yeah…
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| Always on your mind — just a matter of time
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| Bad bitches they linking up — shorty, when they see I
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| Let me tell you something that these girls are scared to tell you
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| Yeah, it’s all for you, so you know you’re supposed to
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| Give me all your time, tell me that you’re mine
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| Yellow tape outside — white chalk the lines
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| Turn up…
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| Turn up…
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| I pull up on niggas — murder scene, murder scene
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| …pushin' that 911 — emergency, emergency
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| Say nigga, I ain’t never heard of you
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| Bet my life you’ve heard of me
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| Bet you’ve heard I spit hot shit and I burn niggas, third degree
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| Just zappers on ‘em, no strap — I ain’t gon' hold back
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| All I do is throw racks — all these hoes know that
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| My pockets lookin' like ADS shocks, these pockets on me so fat
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| These diamonds on me they picture perfect
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| They flash, nigga, call that
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| All I know is turn up — bottles, 'bout to burn up
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| And it’s blood all on my bitch shoes like she just caught a murder
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| And I’m gettin' money, word up
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| I’m ballin', nigga, word up
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| And when it come to these hoes, I hit bitches, I turn up
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| Turn up…
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| Turn up… |