| Rick Ross, Caraseen Cartell
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| Got that, dog?
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| That’s not you
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| I’m respected like Neeno, dog, that’s not you
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| You more like G Money or Dutta Man
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| I brandish big guns, I’m like «fuck it, man»
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| Pistol to your chest, touch glands
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| I’m smoking the dope, not the Plush brand
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| I’m getting clean money, look ma, such as
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| I ghostwrite, race bikes, still pimpin on most nights
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| I keep most light, Fat Boy on the next page
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| You won’t feel me till the Teks wave, or your neck grazed (Bow your head,
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| let’s pray)
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| My name is Rick Ross, my aim, to hit y’all
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| Pack your bags Boo, why? |
| my dick soft
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| No love, I’m a killer, Mercedes Benz, wide-body filler
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| Champagne chiller, pop corks
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| Well-known on the golf course
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| Crimes of all sorts
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| Shit, it’s time to sign off
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| This type of life we live (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Bad broads, fast cars (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Nice minks, ice links (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Talking that killer shit (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Being bothered by the feds (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Pulled over and harassed (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Keep bitches on your dick (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Put 50 on your wrist (Dog, that’s not you)
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| You can catch me on the corner at 9
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| Me and Ross with flame eyes
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| No, that’s not you
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| So, parents, be advised
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| Xerox ballers, y’all worst kinds of dirt
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| With your moms Christmas
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| Cut up fish scales, now you think you’re the harder than stone
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| Not enough to make a profit, plus you’re balling alone
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| Who you throwin' it to, don’t you see the defensive zone
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| I got ya heat seeking, wipe the sweat from your dome
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| You seen a Baywatch complements
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| The four-and-a-half and Charlie Brown getting kissed
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| Got the Ruger and the 6, I must confess
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| If it ain’t you, then leave it to true vets
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| I seen it once before, a little more gruesome than this
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| slit his throat, years ago, a hundred a brick
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| It’s pure venom plus the strike and never miss him
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| In and out, even before he knew what bit him
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| Man, this ain’t you, flesh and torn tissue
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| Moms up late at night screaming she miss you
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| I know the game like the
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| Mean streets and furs as thick as
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| Boy, takin' a ten and fiends think you Hova
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| That’s why lyrically I will rainstorm over
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| Any sucka who be thinkin' that he even
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| That’s why I carry two 8's and pop, drunk or sober
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| This type of life we live (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Bad broads, fast cars (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Nice minks, ice links (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Talking that killer shit (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Being bothered by the feds (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Pulled over and harassed (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Keep bitches on your dick (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Put 50 on your wrist (Dog, that’s not you)
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| We from the area where feds won’t let a nigga rest
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| But our dumbass will let the cops track your GPS
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| Pass me more, help a nigga’s stress
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| We go back to weed hoes ask for refunds
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| Trouble? |
| You need none
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| We three-deep in each one
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| Eat guns like Miami Vice reruns
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| Crockett and Tubbs, cockin and poppin the slugs
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| Sprocket the dubs, ain’t no stoppin the drugs
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| Just keep thugs hoppin in clubs
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| Ask somebody
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| If you undercover, get your ass from round me
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| I murder your ass, 1/3 of a bird and ½
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| Have you look like you burned in a crash
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| To all our Cuban supporters, burnin the flags
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| I’m burnin the bag of herb, birds
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| Workin off your pager, 'cause cops are harassing curbs
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| No disrespect, dog
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| That’s not you, dog
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| This type of life we live (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Bad broads, fast cars (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Nice minks, ice links (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Talking that killer shit (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Being bothered by the feds (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Pulled over and harassed (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Keep bitches on your dick (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Put 50 on your wrist (Dog, that’s not you)
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| We some bad motherfuckers, none of a kind
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| Squeezin' it off to my palm, same design
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| Oh you a big boy? |
| niggas like you, I get the 5th for ya
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| And open up your chest, like a 24-hour store
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| Blazing, connected like Voltron, amazing
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| With Infrared dot, that cover you up like Dalmatians
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| Good fellas, split your way back to the Vanilla
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| Your sweet like wine seller, me, I’m 10 Gorillas
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| With lyrics that spit more fire than Godzilla
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| You standing too close, the kryptonite might kill ya
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| Blinkin', lights going out, slowly sinkin'
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| You came second to none, now do your thinkin
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| First in the game, whoever in the game, you may remain
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| But, long as I play, clear my lane
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| I’m supreme, never unleaded
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| I keep the blue steel, who wanna get it?
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| Your suit’s fitted
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| This type of life we live (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Bad broads, fast cars (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Nice minks, ice links (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Talking that killer shit (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Being bothered by the feds (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Pulled over and harassed (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Keep bitches on your dick (Dog, that’s not you)
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| Put 50 on your wrist (Dog, that’s not you) |