| Yeah
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| A$AP Mob in this mothafucka
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| Tried to told ya
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| Yo Yams what’s up
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| Skinny black nigga, all black get-up
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| Calvin Klein trench, make me look trap killa
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| I am rap skrilla, Michael Jack back, in my rap
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| Check the trap, trilla, Nasty back, track killa
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| Call me young Jack Ripper, rest in peace wack niggas
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| With this rap, Nast sicker than the sickest of the sickest generation
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| Ya’ll just hating, cause we made it, celebration got me faded
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| Blazing up, I feel amazing, but I’m just saying
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| Like what you saying, y’all be playing
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| All are prey to a pack of wolves, that never ate
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| Or so they say, they could be fake, whoever know
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| We sold our souls, we sold our minds
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| I lost my mind, but that’s all lies, because I’m all fine
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| I got this game, this bitch is mine, nigga
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| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
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| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
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| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
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| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
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| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
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| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
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| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
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| Ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride, ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride wit a real nigga
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| Ride, ride wit a real nigga
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| Roll a couple grams, black hoe with a tan
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| Bands don’t just make her dance, bet the bitch will fuck my friends
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| Feeling like I’m Cam nigga, put her on the cam nigga
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| And she got a man, she only love me for my jams, damn
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| I’m drunk as a fish, inhaling a spliff, can’t you see I’m loaded
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| And I won’t stop till I’m dead or I’m rich, young niggas control it
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| Fold niggas like clothing, say my side what you opposing?
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| Leave him stiff like he was posing, never scared of overdosing, yup
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| Asked for a pill, handed her two
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| Say you get high, well prove it then boo
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| Ordered a 'tel, call up your crew
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| And we set it off just like Jada would do
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| True, they say the real niggas don’t lie
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| You was never close to I so I suggest you never try, yeah so
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| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride, ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride wit a real nigga
|
| Ride, ride wit a real nigga
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| Trap lord and I’m righteous
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| Cozy boy and I’m still reclining
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| Bad bitch in Manolo Blahnik
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| I pump that ass like that colonic
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| Feel the bass and that beat knocking
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| Can’t see my face, I’m beneath the stocking
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| Stocky nigga but the heat brolic
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| Get your head chopped like supersonic
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| Yamborghini in a Lamborghini
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| Margiela bitch in that red bikini
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| French bitch suck seven weewees
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| Ask Rock if you don’t believe me
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| Mobbing hard with my mob
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| Trap lord the young god
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| A$AP we go hard
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| Brraaap boy in yo car
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| Lay flat boy, it’s yo gun
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| Feeling like a task force with that chrome
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| Feeling like I’m Flex boy with that bomb (BOOM)
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| Tec spray like cologne
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| Better get that tec boy, you’re so gone
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| Hit him in the neck, jaw or his arm
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| You better not flex boy when I zone
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| Cause I draw guns like Crayons
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh
|
| Bitch I’m cold, bitch I’m cold
|
| Yeah, bitch I’m cold, yeah, yeah, bitch I’m cold, uh |