| Hey~! |
| Yeah
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| Jha, Jha
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| I am, without no en-vy
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| My words, are B-O-N-D
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| Hey hey (hey) you mighta heard of me
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| I’m scorchin hot, niggas call me third degree
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| I get it crackin off the top, urgently
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| And I’m so focused on the verge to be
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| The bonafide authentic, head of my class
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| «Stunts, Blunts» some say I could never surpass
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| Mami said I got a choice — head or the ass
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| But I ain’t thirsty and sometimes it’s better to pass
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| Some say fat boy got a lot of nerve
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| Cause I move with a swag, got a lot of verbs
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| All I know is hustlin, so I gotta serve
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| Drunk drivin on the Deegan, without a swerve
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| Cell phone in my right, blunt in my left
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| Behind the Halton frames, stuntin to death
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| It don’t mean that I’m vain, or want to impress
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| It’s just the way I move I got nuttin to stress
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| — repeat 2X
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| Hey hey (hey) I used to be like you
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| Stand behind me like tint, and I see right through
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| Lookin for charm, see yellow, see light blue
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| See a man gettin money then you see right too
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| Ooh, I’m back at it, it’s pragmatic
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| Make you piss in your pants like it’s prosthetic
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| So don’t get dramatic, stand at ease
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| Cause I run with gorillas that’ll blam your kneees
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| Please, the authentic, truck all tinted
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| You stood around in the heap that’s all dented
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| I’m a hundred percent, you all rented
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| Keep a stack of Benjy’s freshly all minted
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| Yes, so you can call it what you want
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| Uhh, I’m at the crap tables like call it what you want
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| Hahaha, me and the team, haters can’t ignore us
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| I send 'em to the forest, help me sing the chorus
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| — repeat 2X |