| Gun smoke, gun smoke, everywhere I go it’s gun smoke
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| Niggas 'round me, they some Cutthroats
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| Need the bread, getting dumb loaves
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| Like, fuck with us, you getting fucked off
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| In a whip, colour duck sauce
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| Say I need me a benz and I need me a Guatti
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| I got me some hoes and these drugs in they body
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| Don’t need me no convo, just need you to top me
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| Really man, ain’t feel this way in a minute, rack up them digits
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| Ain’t keeping count, what the fuck am I spending
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| Check 'round my neck, I got two chainz like I’m Tiddy Boy
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| Ride with the fire through the city, boy
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| Shit I got might clear the block
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| Neighbours hitting floors when they hear the noise
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| Like huh, yeah
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| We taking risks for the change, so
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| We did this shit with a stain, yeah
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| We ain’t do shit for the clout, so
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| We did this shit for the gang, yeah
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| Niggas know they can’t relate, huh
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| None of us 'round here is fake, huh
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| Counting up all of this pay, huh
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| Eighth letter gang, get it straight
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| Cleaning up the diamonds, toothbrush
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| FTP sitting on top the vest
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| Diamonds double dutching around my neck
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| Feel like Big Soulja, got stacks on deck |