| Ayyiyo, hardtop convertible — it’s him again
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| When the car stop it murder you — them killer rims
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| Your heart stop, the seath’s half suede and part croc
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| Paint job far from stock, this is dark chop
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| Hit the block with the system knockin' on some extra loud ish
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| You tell me it’s child ish
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| But I’m, on my Long Beach, Southern Cal' ish
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| And my, fuck a brrrritch, young Chris Brown ish
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| Hahaha. |
| I’m only playin' wit’chu
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| My homegirls gangbang bitch, they’ll hit you
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| Puttin' hands on a woman ain’t a player’s issue
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| I’d rather treat your emotions like they was made of tissue
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| (What that supposed to mean?) Guess I’m an asswipe
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| (Tch, fuck you nigga!) Yeah, that’s right
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| Fuck me like your friend did last night
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| Now go on and call her so y’all can have that catfight
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| Bitches know niggas ain’t shit
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| We cheat and lie, act like it ain’t shit
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| So when we die, cremate us then put us in your douce
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| So we can run through that puss — one mo' time
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| Bitches know niggas ain’t shit
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| We cheat and lie, act like it ain’t shit
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| So when we die, cremate us then put us in your douce
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| So we can run through that puss — one mo' time
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| Yeah, niggas ain’t shit (nope)
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| Twenty kids in your past made with the same dick
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| Now it’s a wrap on your present like your dick is Saint Nick
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| Now she talkin' all loud in court
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| Like getting buckwild in sport, hollerin' 'bout child support
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| And you done paid up for e’ry kid
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| She spent yo' money on other niggas and getting her hair did
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| Putting Mac makeup all on her pretty face
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| Just to get the money shot later from Mr. Weapon Waist
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| Call Reverend Mase, tell him that I need prayer
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| And ask him is it a better place for players
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| I’m sorry, I dig a ditch for you critics
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| A black Ferrari to getting rich, I’m commited
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| The second coming of Ice Cube
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| Nigga stitched on my fitted Niggas ain’t shit, I admit it
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| Bitches know niggas ain’t shit
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| We cheat and lie, act like it ain’t shit
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| So when we die, cremate us then put us in your douce
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| So we can run through that puss — one mo' time
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| Yeah, one mo' time
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| Yeah yeah, just one mo' time (just one mo' time)
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| Baby one mo' time
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| Put your muh’fucking finger in the air and say one mo' time
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| I got you haters mind puzzled
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| How this ghetto as nigga thinking like Russel
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| Going independent was supposed to sink my boat
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| I was already aflout with my side hustle
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| Ice age ain’t over for this Californian
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| But the recession hit yours like global warming
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| Neck look ice-less
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| Damnit man, your bare-ass wrist look timeless, as this rhyme is
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| It’s all about choking chicks with my dick
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| Then get behind her like I’m giving her the Heimlich
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| Bend that tail over, ya dig?
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| I’m signing off, male chauvinist Pig-(face!) |