| I gotta close the window before I record
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| ‘Cause New York don’t know how to be quiet
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| (Work) Stand up!
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| (Work) Ferg!
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| Hoo! |
| Hoo! |
| Hoo!
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| Coogi down to the socks like I’m Biggie Poppa (baby)
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| Keep your girl head in my Tommy boxers
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| But really though, she a silly ho
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| ‘Cause you know the Fergenstein gettin' plenty dough
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| She don’t get nothin' from a nigga though
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| All she get is hard dick and some Cheerios
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| Kinda silly though, but I’m lyrical
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| Bet I put him in the dirt with the penny loafs
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| No tint though, on my window
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| So you see a nigga shinin' in the Benzo
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| Ballin', got me feelin' like Jim Jones, I’m a pimp though
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| No limp though, couldn’t copy my style in Kinkos
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| Put in work, run up on a killer, then I put him in the dirt
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| Run up in the building, semi gon' squirt
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| That’s what a nigga get when they gettin' on my nerves
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| I ain’t lyin', lay 'em on the curb
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| Ridin' on a killer who be comin' at Ferg (damn!)
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| Girl, you twerk, twerk that kitty, girl, make it purr
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| Put in work, Flacko put 'em in the dirt
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| French got the shovel, he gon' put him in the earth
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| Trinidad maniac with an all-gold hearse
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| Yeah, uh, put in work
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| ScHoolboy Q with a pound of the purp
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| So much work he’ll smoke up the Earth
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| Polo Ground, A$AP World
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| (Haaan!) That ain’t Kanye
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| That’s Montana, loose cannon
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| He shot me, so I had to do it
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| Put him in the dirt, put him in it first
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| I just sold a swammy with ten homis on it
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| Her ass fat, you could park ten Tahoes on it
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| When they mask up, comin' for your ice
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| When they bare-faced, they comin' for your life
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| Baby, don’t pray for me, pray for the weak
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| I’m drinkin' lean, it help me sleep
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| Illuminati? |
| I’m from the streets
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| Never sold my body, we takin' bodies
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| Put in work, put in work
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| Put in work, put 'em in the dirt
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| Shout out that motherland
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| 12-years-old with guns in hand
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| They don’t ask no questions, nigga
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| All they do is bang bang bang
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| They don’t ask no questions, all they do is bang bang
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| I said I do this for them shottas, Trinidad, I love ya
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| I do this for them shottas, Jamaica, I’m your brother
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| I know a bitch from VI
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| Yeah-yeah-yeah, that’s my partner
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| You got a problem with it
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| Then-then-then-then that’s your problem
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| I fuck with Asian niggas and I fuck with Migos
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| I fuck with Haitian niggas, all they speak is Creole
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| I said all I speak is real, y’all niggas might hate me
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| But that don’t get no deal
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| I said no, that don’t get no deal
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| I just now got my deal, but I been gettin' this money
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| No green card in this struggle
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| Immigration give you nothin' but work (put it in work)
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| YAWK-YAWK, YAWK-YAWK!
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| A lot of niggas died, should’ve been from Hoover Street
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| No, I do not have a car, but I could buy one every week
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| Pimpin' like I’m 33, move keys like I’m 36
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| Ship O’s like I’m 28
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| Tacoma know I’m pushin' weight
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| O-X-Y, I’m in your state
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| Eatin' off your dinner plate
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| My heart live where Santa stay
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| Super fly, I need a cape
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| Bitches throwin' pussy back and forth, they on my dick
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| Passion drippin' off her lip
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| She say she never had a Crip
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| Uh, put in work, all big booties make it twerk
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| All big titties lift your shirt
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| Show a player what you’re worth
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| Yeah, put in work, spray his ass in front of the church
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| Deacon said I did my shit
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| The pastor said, «That nigga turnt»
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| Pop my collar on my shirt
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| Make these bitches go berserk
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| Shippin' units; |
| Captain Kirk
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| Takin' xannies, poppin' percs
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| Might not last, I’ll bomb you first
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| Turn your backseat to a hearse
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| Back to the lab with mother Earth
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| Had to give Young Ferg a verse
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| A lot of homies cried, due to crimes, homicide
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| Drivin' by, poppin' nines, Pakistan, Columbine
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| Outta line, pistols barkin' (argh argh), ride or die
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| Write a script, design a line, all I see is dollar signs
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| You want that pretty Flacko? |
| Ratchets, designer jackets
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| The same niggas who jack it
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| Be the first who claim we faggots
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| My bitch is a movie actress
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| Side bitch won a beauty pageant
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| Got a chick that worked at Magic
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| But I’m so damn fine make a bitch look average
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| See, my daddy in Heaven, right next to Ferg’s
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| You know what’s up I’m throwin' bucks
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| Loaded Lux; |
| put in work |