| Boys, now listen, we got more motherfuckin' TV screens
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| On the outside the damn tour bus than on that motherfucker
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| Boys playin' PlayStation
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| We come through motherfuckin' hang gliding
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| Off motherfuckin' Versace skyscrapers
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| I don’t get it, what more can you ask for?
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| Yeah—sound, sound, sound
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| Yeah, real 6 side shit
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| Sickos, ah man
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| Yeah, when you get to where I’m at
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| You gotta remind 'em where the fuck you at
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| Every time they talkin', it’s behind your back
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| Gotta learn to line 'em up and then attack
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| They gon' say your name on them airwaves
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| They gon' hit you up right after like it’s only rap
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| Jewels look like I found a motherfuckin' treasure map
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| And ain’t told no one where the fuck it’s at
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| Shout out to the G’s from the ends
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| We don’t love no girls from the ends
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| I’m gon hit 'em with the wham once again
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| I’ma always end up as a man in the end, dog
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| It’s just apparent every year
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| Only see the truth when I’m staring in the mirror
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| Lookin' at myself like, there it is there
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| Yeah, like there it is there man, whoo!
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| I ain’t tryna chance it, I be with the bands
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| Like a nigga went to Jackson State or Grambling
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| Young Nick Cannon with the snare drum, dancin'
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| Watch the way I handle it, uh
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| Bring it to the bedroom, you know that shit is candle lit
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| She know I’m the man with it, uh
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| With the bands like I must’ve went to Clark, went to Hampton
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| I ain’t playin' with it
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| I ain’t felt the pressure in a little while
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| It’s gonna take some getting used to (What you say?)
|
| Floatin' all through the city with the windows down
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| Puttin' on like I used to (What you say?)
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| They never told me when you get the crown
|
| It’s gon' take some getting used to (What you say?)
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| New friends all in their old feelings now
|
| They don’t love you like they used to, man
|
| When you get to where the fuck I’m at
|
| You gotta remind 'em about where you been
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| About all of the money that done came and went
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| About the two cents I ain’t never spent
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| When they say you’re too famous to pack a gat
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| I gotta remind 'em about where I’m from
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| Not about where I’m going, about where I’ve gone
|
| Stepping on a Swisher roach like a stepping stone
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| Goin' at a nigga throat like a herringbone
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| Boy, do I smell beef? |
| Mmmm, pheromones
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| Got a fuckin' halo over my devil horns
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| Trap pumpin' all night like Chevron
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| Suck a nigga dick for a iPhone 6
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| Fuck my nigga Terry for a new Blackberry
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| You can get buried for a ounce of Katy Perry
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| I was only five, but still remember the drought in '87
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| Lord, tell 'em bitches I ain’t got no times to play games with 'em
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| I ain’t got no time
|
| Tell her that I love her and I hate her in the same sentence
|
| I’m fuckin' her mind
|
| I got, mind control over Deebo
|
| Parmesan my panino
|
| Promethazine over pinot
|
| And when my bloods start shootin' that’s B-roll, bitch
|
| I ain’t felt the pressure in a little while
|
| It’s gonna take some getting used to (What you say?)
|
| Floatin' all through the city with the windows down
|
| Puttin' on like I used to, yeah (What you say?)
|
| They never told me when you get the crown
|
| It’s gon' take some getting used to (What you say?)
|
| New friends all in their old feelings now
|
| They don’t love you like they used to, man
|
| Yeah, they don’t love you like they used to (What you say?)
|
| In the city with the- windows down
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| Like I used to, yeah (What you say?)
|
| Like I
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| Take some to getting used to (What you say?)
|
| Man, they don’t love you like they used to, man
|
| And I’m so sorry
|
| Let’s just let bygones be bygones, okay?
|
| Let’s just go ahead and just let bygones be bygones
|
| I pull up lookin' like a damn cyborg, weighin' 224
|
| Oh man, these boys don’t even understand
|
| Listen when you see OVO Jodi pull up on the scene with Drake
|
| For goodness sakes, well for goodness sakes
|
| You see this mixtape you listenin' to? |
| This an album
|
| Yea, we could have, we could have sold it to you for 17.99
|
| Or 29.99 with the shirt, buy it at the Target
|
| These motherfuckers trippin' so hard I had to look down and double check cause
|
| I thought they had their shoes tied together—motherfuckers got they shoes tied
|
| together
|
| What more could you ask for?
|
| Boys harassing me with these questions
|
| How about this? |
| How about don’t ask me no more motherfucking questions?
|
| We ain’t doing no interview! |