| A pretty smile can cover up a character
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| Dirtier than Janet Jackson’s clothes
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| When she played Penny on Good Times (right)
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| A chick in the hood shines
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| But blind to trick nigga
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| That has not been exposed to this mentality of mines…
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| (I find the one I want) If she step up I get her open like every piece of my mail when I was locked up Laced up stupid after I drop 'em
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| Then fuck every model in Q-tip videos with the same condom
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| (I never met a bitch) That faded me Cus mentally and physically God was showing off when he created me
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| (Be afraid of me)
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| But stop hating me cus women are loving me, I’m sorry
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| That you was a virgin until your record release party (right)
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| Hoes won’t admit this, but that’s groupie’s style (yeah)
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| I call 'em Cleopatras, they the queens of +The Nile/denial+
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| And these trick niggas dead on 'em
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| Bithces looking like Barbie doll bodies with a G.I. |
| Joe head on 'em
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| It’s pathetic how quickly are to get naked
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| Probably infected, shieet! |
| Give me the ones with good credit
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| Or Dead it, Admitedly I have a fetish you could be on
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| I like an ass so fat she can turn a boxer shorts to thongs
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| (Is you hot from all my songs?)
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| She diggin’me, Got women fingering themselves
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| Thinking of women fingering themselves that are thinking of me You know what sickening me? |
| (Yo dog express your feelings)
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| If Eric Bennet can get Halle Berry I deserve Vannesa Williams
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| It’s how it goes (*3X*)
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| Tell 'em how it goes yo…
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| Saafir +
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| This is how it goes
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| Down in the town of West Oakland keepin’hoes soaked in It’ll never be Another me, sauce see squeeze up on a hoe like
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| Oh shit you got to pay me!
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| That’s real talk,
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| And you know what’s that fat white man name
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| Ben Franklin
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| The bald head nigga with the glasses… feel me I dead tricks in the game (what)
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| Baptise they eyes with the reply that I ain’t fly
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| Trick, bitch, I’m an astronaut
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| With so much hot acid cock on the concrete
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| You gotta wear sunblock (know)
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| Sending these hoes like meteors (whooosh)
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| By 2004 you’ll see me in a space suit
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| Paper chasin’with hoes in pursuit of my boots
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| Touch down on that pimp planet, floor
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| (Gimmie some more)
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| Up goes the flag made out of wigs and galore
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| (Take that back)
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| Panties are vision for male tricks on a mission to hold hoes down
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| Like gravity, (ha ha), Imagine me (trick)
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| Cus the way from ya’ll I’m like years with the fly gear
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| And better than credit thats limitless
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| For breaking a bitch I’m in the mothafucking book of Guinesses
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| (Breakin'records) Under H.O.T.
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| Short for: Hoold Ooooon,… Trick!
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| Let me switch your? |
| cre-day to mayday
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| Time to show up, hoe up or blow up (blow up!)
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| But you know what? |
| (what)
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| I gotta keep tellin’my other half
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| Nigga they don’t know us, thou shall not hold trust
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| I’ll pass the ass on mine, playalistically divine
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| No Nickelodeon shit
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| Hoe take out your clothes and get into this here? |
| feronien? |
| slick
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| See I dont’chase these hoes,
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| These hoes chase me, why chase the doe, yo Your purse comes first your ass comes last
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| And I don’t know how long we gon’last
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| But what you do with all your money baby
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| You bring it all home to Chi…
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| To a true P.I., the thick ?? |
| less layer
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| A playa,-listic
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| Gangsta pulling your age and funny style ass foul
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| (yeah, but now)
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| That’s it I’m a shake that trick and I’m puttin nothing else on it
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| I won’t arrest the chest and thighs
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| Recognize the weapon size
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| When I shoot this game at your ass
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| Or get shot with hot shit into ya lip
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| Blister bitch, miss a nigga if you a plain ass coward
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| With a colorful name that hate players and not the game
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| Woop!(Latin lover lover)
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| Famous in art
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| I’m dangersous and smart
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| Guaranteed victory dating your wifey on the Change Of Heart
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| No bitches run me, I told you from the start
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| So many tears shed over me, don’t make a scene, make an Ark
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| (Straight talk)
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| Women turnin’their beepers, cutting their phones off
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| I make love to their minds 'til their clothes just fall off!
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| I fuck Tamia as a side bed
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| I make chicks consider themselves widows
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| Whose husbands ain’t even died yet (damn)
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| To best explain it:
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| Catch me in your living room gettin my hair braided
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| By your girl, buttnaked
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| Look at what having the best lines done for me Your wifey will trade six of you for one of me
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| (And that’s real)
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| …Tell em how it goes down (*5X*) |