| Shopping bags they weigh down her arm
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| Popping tags and collars her charm
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| All them things she got, she got from you
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| All them things she got, she got from you
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| Manolo and Prada’s her style
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| Louis, Burberry by the pile
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| All them things she got, she got from you
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| All them things she got, she got from you
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| Yo she know you come to do it, so what’cha want
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| Candelight might flick at’cha
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| Put your credit card to it, she know what to flaunt
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| Her handle tight like a master
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| She used to taunt on the runway, yeah she’s down to tree
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| The avenue like her catwalk
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| Struck a bit to the gunplay, that housing street
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| looks to die for, ask that chalk man for yo' hand
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| Spend it, you live to show
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| All the cash that you can burn
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| What you need is to end it, cause you give the dough
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| But get no ass back in return (HA, HA HA)
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| Stay laughin, straight at you dog
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| Best believe, you wastin time
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| Don’t deny what’s happenin, just clear the fog
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| And achieve you a peace line, yo it goes like
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| She got from you, she, sh-she, she got it
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| She got from you, she, sh-sh, sh-she got it
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| Her frame goes beyond thick, she got you stunned
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| Livin it up off the pop hits
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| Like a dame on a Bond flick, she’s not the one
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| To give it up 'til you cop shit
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| Just because she’s stacked right, she got your soul
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| Her every wish you now obey
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| You should be on that actright, but she got control
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| She say jump you scream, «OKAY! |
| I’M RELOADED!»
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| Nigga you shootin blanks
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| Tryin to front like you got game
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| Her crib is sugar coated, like she lootin banks
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| But it’s your wallet she done claimed
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| When the limit of your plastic, reaches the end
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| You start payin for your time
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| She’ll be in it for the last bit, of money to spend
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| (HA, HA HA) And you’ll be left with dimes
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| While she fillin up
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| She got from you, she, sh-she, she got it
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| She got from you, she, sh-sh, sh-she got it |