| Aye, London, can you bring me a lighter real quick?
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| That might be my tag for my producer shit
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| When I start makin' beats
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| (This shit need to be on film)
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| Oh I’m goin' in, let me do the whole song
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| (What's the problem?)
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| It’s my birthday, hey
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| It’s my birthday, hey
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| She gon' get to twistin' on the pole with her legs
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| Please don’t get it twisted, mm, this bitch about her bread
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| Tried to give her Hennessy, she want a Perc' instead
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| These bitches love my energy, they want me in they bed
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| I’m the biggest joker, need a bitch like Harley Quinn
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| Ain’t fishin' for no bitches, I’m like Nemo with one fin
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| Keep thinkin' with your dick and we gon' put it on your head
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| A brother in the other room, puttin' a bitch to bed
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| I told this nigga he gotta stop fuckin' on my friends
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| He looked at me, he dropped a bean, he said «I got a plan»
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| Add them bitches up, okay, you do the math, aye
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| Let me do me, you do the other half, yeah
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| I done got to the point where I ain’t gotta ask
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| What the fuck is your point? |
| All my bitches bad
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| Bro day on Wednesdays, put it on my tab
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| Fuck a Throwback Thursday, I ain’t goin' out sad
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| And your one-night-only done turned into a bag
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| Your Nissan Altima, it turned into a Jag'
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| Hmm, yeah
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| It’s my bitch, yeah
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| It’s my birthday, yeah
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| She just started, say it’s her first day, hey
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| Yeah, it’s her first day, oh woah
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| She get retarded, she get freaky
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| She’s so bossy, she ain’t easy
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| She ain’t with that he-or-she-said
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| She just wanna party, yeah, go DJ
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| Bitch, you know I’m ballin', you ain’t in my league
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| I walk in unbothered, don’t you bother me
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| Watch how you talkin' when approachin' me
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| A nigga tried it and we left him with a injury
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| When I was on the East, they ain’t even notice me
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| I got my mink on, but I take it off, roll up my sleeves
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| Before I blew up, I passed out off some bubbly
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| I fell out in the White House, I felt like Hillary
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| Dead presidents got me shivering
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| I’m beyond cold because of my grandmother’s remedies
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| Know our niggas take you out your misery
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| Are you gon' bust it open for my niggas who ain’t make it here?
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| I know you wanna go some places, baby, I can take you there
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| I got a lotta acres, got a crib and it’s spacious there
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| Been workin' on myself, I haven’t mastered my patience yet
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| She been workin' on herself, tryna build up her credit score
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| This mob, we gon' hustle on our tippy toes
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| She know it’s survival, she gon' dance on her tippy toes
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| Candlelight dinner, she leave a nigga bloody rose
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| Coked-out nigga, she gon' leave him with a stuffy nose
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| Learned this shit from my grandma, she used fuck with hoes
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| Learned this shit from my grandma, she used fuck with stoves
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| Six years old, they thinkin' I ain’t know
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| I’m at the sidewalk like «What up? |
| What you need? |
| What you want»
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| If I wasn’t wrappin' yams, I would be sellin' clothes
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| My nigga said if he wasn’t rappin', naw, he still sellin' bowls
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Niggas can’t fuck around
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| (Bitch ass niggas look, I’m done with the song) |