| Back on my pivot, God be my witness
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| 20 racks tucked in my Amiri britches
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| Consistently drippin, you might end up slippin
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| Show off my ice while wave at the bitches
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| Hot as a skillet, cold as a frigid
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| Draped in designer, my taste is exquisite
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| Make em remember if he forget it
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| Gun on my waist and I shoot with precision
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| Run up them digits, me and my nigglets
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| We trynna see who gone spend it the quickest
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| Nigga you trippin, you shop wit a limit
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| Ya money too short like a snippet or midget
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| Lil mama pretty plus she the thickest
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| If this bitch listen might make her the Mrs
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| Center of attention, bitch I’m the slickest
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| Hoes stop and stare I’m a walking exhibit
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| Might pull in a Bentley, this isn’t a civic
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| Take off on the cops, they won’t give me a ticket
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| She say Im a dog but she giving me kitty
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| I keep showing her racks, she keep showing me titties
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| She like how I talk, I be speaking explicit
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| And my ice shining bright, bitch I really be litty
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| You can’t walk how I walk, I be kickin my pimpin
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| You can’t buy what I bought, cause you low on expenses
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| Jimmy Choo drip-drip
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| Niggas ain’t hip-hip
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| Bitch it cost a grip-grip
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| Gave da clerk a tip-tip
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| Point me to da vip-vip
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| Baby show me nip slips
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| Fuck her then i dip-dip
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| Too much on my chip-chip
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| Pass her to the gang gang
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| Fifty on my chain mane
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| Still sending change to my niggas in the chain gang
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| We don’t ball the same, man these niggas really lame mane
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| Spending out ya range, so just stay up in ya lane-lane
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| Rockin Helmut Lang like a nigga playing football
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| Tell the truth, I can tell I got these niggas shook dog
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| Nigga acting tough but he really justa mush ball
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| Thousand dollar shoes, that’s half a band a foot dog
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| I might spend it on a fit
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| You gone give it to the bitch
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| And I pop the biggest shit
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| Cause I’m really living rich
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| But it’s still a whole lotta paper that I gotta get
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| Still got a whole ‘nother ball that I gotta pitch
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| Dressed in high fashion, cartier glasses
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| Took a lil break, now I’m back on they asses
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| We hop in foreigns and we do dashes
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| Elegant, so bitches calling me Cashius
|
| Back on my pivot, God be my witness
|
| 20 racks tucked in my Amiri britches
|
| Consistently drippin, you might end up slippin
|
| Show off my ice while wave at the bitches
|
| Hot as a skillet, cold as a frigid
|
| Draped in designer, my taste is exquisite
|
| Make em remember if he forget it
|
| Gun on my waist and I shoot with precision
|
| Run up them digits, me and my nigglets
|
| We trynna see who gone spend it the quickest
|
| Nigga you trippin, you shop wit a limit
|
| Ya money too short like a snippet or midget
|
| Lil mama pretty plus she the thickest
|
| If this bitch listen might make her the Mrs
|
| Center of attention, bitch I’m the slickest
|
| Hoes stop and stare I’m a walking exhibi
|
| My style isn’t basic, you can’t replicate it
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| This authentic fabric, yo shit fabricated
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| These niggas can’t see me, go tell em get lasic
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| They falling behind cause they way too complacent
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| I know they want my shine but I won’t let em take it
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| Bitch I wanted some cake so I had to go bake it
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| And I don’t wanna talk if it ain’t bout a payment
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| I spent five hundred dollars on expensive fragrance
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| He been balling too hard, someone give him a flagrant
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| But I don’t play no sport, cartier like a dork
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| I been fucking shit up in like too many places
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| Spent a bag in LA, spent a bag in New York
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| Knock me a bitch, I take off with ya whore
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| Way too much drip, leave a sign on the floor
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| Got way too many racks but I want me some more
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| My whole crib is covered in brand new decor
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| I can’t trip off a hoe, I got bitches galore
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| Once I fuck, cut her off, don’t want her anymore
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| You might put on some shit that I already wore
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| Freshest one in this bitch when I walk through the door
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| Back on my pivot, God be my witness
|
| 20 racks tucked in my Amiri britches
|
| Consistently drippin, you might end up slippin
|
| Show off my ice while wave at the bitches
|
| Hot as a skillet, cold as a frigid
|
| Draped in designer, my taste is exquisite
|
| Make em remember if he forget it
|
| Gun on my waist and I shoot with precision (Brrr)
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| Let the band play |