| What you mean I ain’t call you?
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| I hit you when I landed
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| I’m waiting in my hotel room
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| seems like we are arguing more and it’s getting less romantic
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| yeah, I think she’ll be able to tell soon
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| but I fucked you right, I will
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| I fucked you right I will
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| I’ll fuck you like no one has ever ever made you feel
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| I mean this part of our relationship’s amazing still
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| I might just put up with the arguing and stay for real
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| you looking bad, girl for goodness sakes
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| you with all those curves and me without no breaks
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| ooh, I’m willing to work it out however long it takes you
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| you feel like you miss those happy days well girl that makes two of us
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| Our timing is wrong
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| your friends always tying up every line on your phone
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| Yeah, but tell them bitches that you’ll always be my Mrs
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| and the hardest part about the fucking business is minding your own
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| uhh, and everytime I try and break it off
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| we just yell until we tired then I break you off
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| it’s useless all this fighting lets get past it now
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| even when I throw them deuces you just send it back around
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| Your wrist and fingers glisten
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| ice cold like Michigan
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| eh look at what we living in
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| here we go with this again
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| I just keep on talking but I guess that you ain’t listening
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| rather run around with them nothing ass bitches
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| then, go on, got me hot, smoking like a chimney
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| we used to be best friends, now it seems we finna be enemy’s
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| deep inside it’s killing me
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| but soon its gonna be killing you
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| to see her in that two seater, now that’s gonna hurt your feelin’s boo
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| ah ha, didn’t you think you would be over me
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| by now so you go sleeping with them clowns, they are no relief
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| she spoke her piece, I know, capisce
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| so love must be let go, released
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| into the wind, again again and deuces I must throw ya peace
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| You know what, yo?
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| you a bitch!
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| you should have a travel agent cause you a trip
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| you should make your own toilet tissue since you the shit
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| but all you got is some fucking issues you fucking bitch
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| I hate niggas, but I love your mom
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| give her a kiss for me, her second son
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| get your mind right baby or get your shit together
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| you gonna be hot a little while
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| I’mma be rich forever
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| girl seducers, they come in Deuces
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| when I cut em off they always become a nuisance
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| niggas take my old flows and they take my old swag
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| he just took my old bitch and turn it to his new bitch
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| hehe. |
| I’m stupid
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| but I won’t get my drama on
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| what I’m dealing with is too real for me to comment on
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| Jay finally got it through my head not to run my mouth
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| so when you talk bout «you know who» I don’t know who you talkin' bout
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| According to my old bitch I be on some new shit
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| she was on some old shit, now I got a new bitch
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| think I give two shits
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| you ain’t gonna do shit
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| meet my two fingers, intro… deuces
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| if you knew better you’d do better
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| wanna get the middle finger but I got two better
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| So you gonna diss me even though you know it’s wrong
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| know you gonna (miss me a little when I’m gone)
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| Drizzy voice, now I’m ghost baby
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| four door Rizzy Royce
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| tryna work it out might be a bad business choice
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| I’m bout my business boys
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| plus I make paper
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| come on that’s old news
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| yesterday’s paper
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| oh, you talkin', what about?
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| if it ain’t how I kept you studded out
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| you might as well shut ya mouth
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| you’ll never score another me, I’ll shut it out
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| act like there’s gum in your hair girl, cut it out
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| Got a pocket full of hundreds
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| she the only one is missing
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| got a bucket full of ice
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| and a watch to go with it
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| got a racing Lamborghini
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| have my homies scared to drive
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| haters better put their head down they know that boy be fly
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| all the charter planes
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| now i’m talking ballers slang
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| R.O.Z.A.Y on that wall in the hall of fame
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| I let my denim sag
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| red Louis belt
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| how can u love me baby, first you gotta love yourself !
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| The farewell email from a female
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| but I’m a player, ain’t gonna tell you all the details
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| what it entails is hard to say like selling seashells
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| by the seashore, but she’s not a bore but neither a whore
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| who needs to know more
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| the kind you can’t ignore but want to open the door… for,
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| or run in your favourite store and leave with all them shopping bags and half
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| of it ain’t your’s,
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| I did things for, ain’t rich ain’t poor
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| I want it to do more but hell I just ain’t know her
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| well enough to know if this is all she came for
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| but enough to know tonight excited she came four
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| times to my cousins house to see if I was there
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| get ya minds out the gutter man
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| we out here tryna have a good time
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| and here I am, all heavy with the words where
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| somebody that’s a nerd, likely fast forward
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| but shit they asked for it
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| it’s hard to throw up them deuces cause when you know it’s juicy
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| you start to sound like Confucius when making up excuses
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| chase the Cabooses until the track gone
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| I gotta find me a new locomotive stop making sad songs
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| I’m on some new shit
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| I’m chucking my deuces up to her
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| I’m moving on to something better, better, better
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| No more trying to make it work
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| You made me wanna say bye bye, say bye bye, say bye bye to her |