| I’m sippin' tea, beat what I eat
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| Kicked up the feet, no Assassin’s Creed
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| Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee
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| Good reflexes like you knocked at the knee
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| X’d out defeat, you, I delete
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| My boots from Greece made with feathers from geese
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| Counting loose leaf with the face of deceased
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| Count up the bread, count up the yeast
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| This is for my nemesis, white folk
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| If you pull up, then you’re dead, uh-uh, rifle
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| We gon' cross him like the symbol on a Bible
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| Call him Spongebob 'cause he movin' life without spinal, huh
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| Never not woke, my gland pineal
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| On the patio fucking Princess’s peach, Mario
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| Yellow Louis V overalls on me, look like Wario
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| On the mic, I’m an animal, hear the cardio through audio
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| If you want beef, capisce (Hahaha)
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| Smokin' on tree, hashish (Yow)
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| She said, «No, don’t leave»
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| Baby, I’m oh-so green (What's that shit 'cause it better not be)
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| We got Dracs, sticks, all type of blicks (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh)
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| Blood on my back, don’t get caught in a blitz (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh)
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| Chopsticks, got me a pick (Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh)
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| Steppin' on shit, put my foot in a brick (Eeh)
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| Fuck you mean? |
| (Yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup)
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| Huh, oh, I’m ready (Haha)
|
| Yuh (Oh, shit), yuh
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| I’m in the land of the lost, now I’m chill, Jack Frost
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| Yeah, my conscience like Constantine, that hot sauce
|
| Jack Skellington limbs 'cause I’m known to pop off
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| And I’m one with the force, so this saber is my sword
|
| Got the dick tucked in like RuPaul
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| Two bananas and a boat in the U-Haul (Huh)
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| And the dope look sick like Wuhan
|
| 'Nother brick comin' in from Tucson (Racks)
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| I was too piffed up when a nigga walked in
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| I was servin' up bricks at a low end (White)
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| I got too much boof stuffed in my pants (Huh, huh, huh, huh-huh-huh)
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| I could probably fuck around, build a snowman (Huh-huh-huh, huh-huh-huh)
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| And it’s stone, no Mason, say I’m chillin' with your bitch
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| It’s for him and her like Rozan
|
| 'Cause this shit go down when a nigga get whacked
|
| Should’ve never put your life in a ho hands
|
| If you want beef, capisce (Hahaha)
|
| Smokin' on tree, hashish (Yow)
|
| She said, «No, don’t leave»
|
| Baby, I’m oh-so green (What's that shit 'cause it better not be)
|
| We got Dracs, sticks, all type of blicks (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh)
|
| Blood on my back, don’t get caught in a blitz (Ooh-ooh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-eeh)
|
| Chopsticks, got me a pick (Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh)
|
| Steppin' on shit, put my foot in a brick (Eeh)
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| Kick a bitch to the curb if she don’t speak with manners (Hee, hee)
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| My house sit alone behind gates by the manor (Hee, hee)
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| My new hoes look whiter than Carlos Santana (Hee, hee)
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| My bitch from the hood, mamas hustled on camera (Hee, go)
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| School from the seventies
|
| Could’ve been dropped by the first time I signed for my boy
|
| That was English like city of Oxford
|
| Just finessed some pussy, I need me an Oscar
|
| I thought I want kids 'til I sat by a toddler
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| Recorded two hits in one hour at Doppler (Two)
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| I walk in my house naked holding my chopper (Frrt)
|
| We do the same shit, we change names just like soccer
|
| My jewelry box looking like Davy Jones' locker
|
| I want Addison Rae to become my doctor and check on my privates (Woo)
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| Put her in a skirt and a scarf like a pilot
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| He didn’t make it past the first clip like a pilot (Frrt)
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| I’m sick, I need medicine before I riot
|
| My bitch pussy sweet, it help with my diet
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| Can’t go off the label, boy, I gotta eye it
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| I gotta smell, I gotta taste it
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| Haha, hahaha, yaow, frrt (On God, slatt)
|
| What’s this, what’s this?
|
| What’s that shit 'cause it better not be
|
| Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh, eeh (Go)
|
| Eeh-eeh, eeh-eeh, eeh (Slatt, damn)
|
| Yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup
|
| Hahaha, oh shit |