| Uh, I heard there was a funeral for Auto-Tune
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| I’m glad that I’m livin, some of y’all is doomed
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| Talkin 'bout death, I’d be honored to
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| Death of DJs yellin over all the tunes
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| Thought he was the man but that boy a coon
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| And I’m so street smart they call me «Harvard Goon»
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| Mixtape Messiah 8 is what y’all assume
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| But scratch that, better take cover, dodge the boom! |
| (yeah)
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| Gotta kill it like Michael, not Jackson but Vick (why?)
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| Get punished for the crime, have 'em still on my dick
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| I’m so Pharreal with this thing on my hip (yep)
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| Pusha and a Malice, yeah I got me two Clipse (Clipse)
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| Lookin for some trouble, you can have your first wish
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| I’d take your house, have your kitchen on bricks (woo!)
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| No banana in the tailpipe Miss (nah)
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| Pullin my money and it’s never no splits
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| Whips what you mean, I could be a slave master
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| Hundred for the Benz but the 'lac is way faster
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| (College) dropout like I never heard Asher
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| I don’t need your opinion if I ain’t ask ya
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| Make 'em remember they asthma
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| Ladies want to practice, I make 'em play tackle (tackle)
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| Chill out, what ya hidin from the drop for?
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| Lookin for some ice baby, welcome to Alaska
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| (N Luv Wit My Money), I’m just tryin to kiss stacks (yep)
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| Tryin to date mine, I’m a tell the chick tax (yep)
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| Million dollar mack, have your mama on her back
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| Tap Tap for Revenge like the iPhone app (ha)
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| King of mixtapes, let 'em know that that’s fact
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| I’m fittin to run rap, mess around and get lapped (lapped)
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| Round of applause for ya if I get jacked
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| I bet ya hear claps comin out the kid’s strap (woo!)
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| Everytime they see me, they just call me «hachoo»
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| 'Cause every verse sick enough to give ya that flu (flu)
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| Every stack I’m pickin up thick as Ragu
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| I’m pullin up in my dropper, they like «Koopa, that’s you?»
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| True, I just want my clout to last
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| And they say that money talks, so I’m talkin fast (fast)
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| Promise my vault is like Alcatraz
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| Ya break in, you’re never gonna make it out with cash
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| Could get money out of Pamela Anderson (what?)
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| And her son, I’m the man with funds (funds)
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| Give me your account, let me manage one
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| I’m a gon' clean it out until the damage done
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| Let me be clear (yeah), no antenna
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| Hundred thou' stacks, that’s a big man dinner
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| Pull up outside on some big chrome spinners
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| Hop out just to show you how quick I can get scrilla |