| I see you niggas out here rentin' and leasin' these cars
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| Frontin' like you buyin', buyin', buyin', buyin
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| Claimin' that you makin so much paper but I know
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| That I know that you a liar, liar, liar, liar
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| Dip deep into your pockets, let a grand hang out
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| If you ballin' then quit the stallin', let a grand hang out
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| Uh, uh, uh, c’mon!
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| Hey, yo, I pull up so aggressive nigga, hoppin out the thang
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| Ice drippin' wet like I just hopped up out the rain
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| My picture perfect pose like I hopped up out a frame
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| Ain’t a coach on the planet that can take me out the game
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| My heart beats forever like my name was Eddie King
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| A Midwest rider like my dirty Jesse James
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| The CEO of Derrty, and he go by Cornell Haynes
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| Mean-muggin' all you niggas like I hopped up out your dame
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| I’m like uh-oh, there he go-oh
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| A hundred and twenty up Natural Bridge in that Mo-Mo
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| Slippin' and slidin', look how he ridin' pass the po-po
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| He blazin' that fire behind the they don’t know, oh
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| Whoo! |
| I’m really thinkin of changin' my name to Krispy Kreme
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| I’m do-nuts nigga, let me tell you what I mean
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| I’m paper chasin', chasin' the paper, you chasin' dreams
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| My money’s getting stronger like it’s takin' Creatine
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| I see you niggas out here rentin' and leasin' these cars
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| Frontin' like you buyin', buyin', buyin', buyin
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| Claimin' that you makin so much paper but I know
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| That I know that you a liar, liar, liar, liar
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| Dip deep into your pockets, let a grand hang out
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| If you ballin' then quit the stallin', let a grand hang out
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| Uh, uh, uh
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| My pockets like Wyclef Jean, a few G’s
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| We them locksmith boys, we keep a few Kis
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| Caterpillar pimp, that butterfly whores
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| Lamborghini spreewells, butterfly doors
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| Some’n like McDonald’s when I move in packs
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| Quarter-Pound Supersized bullets and Big Mac’s
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| House longer than I-70, arise ten stories
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| And I still Rob niggas just like Horry
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| Everybody hate on Young Tru boy
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| Cause they know that the nigga on fire, fire, fire, fire
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| Rap phenomenon — soon as the album drop
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| Artists don’t eat like the month of Ramadan
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| Dirty this, Dirty that, guess I’m a Dirrty cat
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| Sellin' niggas some chickens, rob 'em get the birdies back
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| Plumber of the game, that flood the state
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| In a stretch Phantom, with more Windows than Bill Gates
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| I see you niggas out here rentin' and leasin' these cars
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| Frontin' like you buyin', buyin', buyin', buyin
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| Claimin' that you makin so much paper but I know
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| That I know that you a liar, liar, liar, liar
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| Dip deep into your pockets, let a grand hang out
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| If you ballin' then quit the stallin', let a grand hang out
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| Uh, uh, uh, Joey Crack!
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| Yeah, they lease and we buy 'em, we peace and they crime
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| They dyin' cause we street, keep heat, and keep firin'
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| Y’all know, top of the world’s my motto (Uh)
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| Anna Kournikova, baby girl’s my model (Uh)
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| All I wanted in life is to be a soldier
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| Now you can find me with chicks just doin yoga
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| Meditation that Marley, the hydraulics
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| You heard Big, go check the Brown, they might hire you
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| High definition to any form of telecast
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| Me and young Derrty got plenty hoes and hella cash
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| All I need is a minute to shatter your dreams
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| And we about to sell more than Avril Lavigne (Bitch!)
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| And all I do is rep the hood where the jugs be
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| Can’t help it if the folks at MTV love me
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| Y’all see the T.S., we shinin', come to the B-X, we grindin'
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| Y’all wanna be us keep trying, we buyin', he’s lyin'
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| I see you niggas out here rentin' and leasin' these cars
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| Frontin' like you buyin', buyin', buyin', buyin
|
| Claimin' that you makin so much paper but I know
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| That I know that you a liar, liar, liar, liar
|
| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| Dip deep into your pockets, let a grand hang out
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| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| If you ballin' then quit the stallin', let a grand hang out
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| Uh, uh, uh, ladies!
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| We like, «Fuck that, I need a stack» |
| And like, forty-nine to go with that
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| I’m quick to, tell a ho her flow is wack
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| The type to, cop the jersey, throw it back
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| See I can stunt and tell a chick «Yo let your man hang out»
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| Since he frontin' like it’s nothin, let a grand hang out
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| Fuck a handout, I been getting' guap since way back
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| Can’t wait to see they faces when I drop the Maybach
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| You lyin', you claim you buyin', but you rentin' and leasin'
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| If you pimpin' and niggas spendin', where’s the paper you seein'?
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| Stop stallin', I’m ballin', call me Sheryl Swoops
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| Can’t stand the backseat driver, that’s why I cop the Coupe
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| Yeah, a Benz SLR with the darkest tints
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| So explicit valet hesitant to park the shit (Errt!)
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| I’m like a block away and the whip be startin' (Uh)
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| Oh God, it’s Remy Martin!
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| I see you niggas out here rentin' and leasin' these cars
|
| Frontin' like you buyin', buyin', buyin', buyin
|
| Claimin' that you makin so much paper but I know
|
| That I know that you a liar, liar, liar, liar
|
| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
|
| Dip deep into your pockets, let a grand hang out
|
| Let a grand hang out, let a grand hang out
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| If you ballin' then quit the stallin', let a grand hang out |