| Sheesh, everything I state is facts
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| I’m not these other street niggas, bitch I can really rap
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| I’m ridin' round town with a tommy gun and a Jag
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| And you can disregard the yelling, RJ tied up in the back
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| Man stop playing, pour that eight up in a Masi
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| I’m driving so fast, my eyes look like I’m crying
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| Of course my wrist shining, don’t ask me what these are
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| Bitch these are VVS Diamonds, it’s hard to see the timing
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| And if I take a look for myself it might blind me
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| He the type of nigga put slashes in his eyebrows
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| Pigtail flat tops? |
| please, tell me what’s that 'bout
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| One thing about Drakeo, no, I don’t tap out
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| Bay Bay kids, running around eleven years old with the MAC out
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| You think I’m Yo Gotti the way I just brought this sack out
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| Say I pour too much, that’s the type of shit I laugh 'bout
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| This a three band pint, I guess I had to bring the Act out
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| And since everybody eatin' let’s see Splack bring a bag out
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| That’s a fit and some strings, put a wig in a Lyft
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| Send a bitch to the retreat, tell that bitch bring my ends
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| Put the draco down, the engineer scared, so what, he ear hustlin'
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| Do 'em so cold, I will, the fit been mustard
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| Disgusting, suck me, fuck me, you bitches love me
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| You frown, you clown, you match, you must be crusty
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| I’m psycho, Michael Myers, I might just gut him
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| I’m in this shit to win, ain’t no fuckin' bein' humble
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| It’s a dog eat dog world but ain’t no poodles in the jungle
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| It’s 2016, we ain’t 'bout to Royal Rumble
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| Almost lost my balance and grabbed the K 'fore I stumbled
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| What you say? |
| speak up bitch, I can’t hear you when you mumble
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| He yellin' too much on his track, get him a muzzle
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| Thirty-two, what if rap don’t work? |
| he ain’t got no hustle
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| Watch worth twenty-five, where was you at twenty-five?
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| Pimps me, diss me, silly, I know you miss me
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| This a see-through drum with death darts and it’s fifty
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| Niggas grown ass men, how you ain’t ever seen fifty?
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| Niggas talkin' that tough shit, always end with just kidding
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| Bye bye bleed 'em, who brought you the Stinc meaner
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| Spring cleaner, cold demon, done mudwalked all through Neimans
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| These rocks in my watch done blurred all my seein'
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| Why you gas him so hard? |
| bro we all human beings
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| I’m from 2 Greedy family, what I look like rap beefin'?
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| Shootin' K’s on Naomi, police like that’s black people
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| Puttin' money on my watch, what the fuck these niggas thinkin'?
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| How I’m supposed to get in heaven, I just fist fought with Jesus
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| Finna wash down my sins with a pint of MG-Peezy
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| Times three percocets, how the fuck I’m 'posed to think straight?
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| Niggas wanna rap beef but niggas ain’t ever seen cake
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| Talkin' 'bout they want me, I just left MCJ
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| The whole shebang, I’m the closest thing to it
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| In the Masi thing, I traumatized the doors
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| You can tell I’m high, it’s coming out my pores
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| Give me pints on pints on pints on pints, I’m scorched
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| The Nike sign is outlined on my 'ports
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| Twelve years old when I jumped off the porch
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| Central LP sim, what was you doin'?
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| Shit, clearly I wasn’t into books
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| I was ridin' 'round town with flat heads and crooks
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| Lay a Drakeo on the rap game, please, these niggas shook
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| FN five sevens for niggas thinkin' they Suge
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| I don’t need no pass, I’m Drakeo, I know I’m good, ugh
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| Tell these niggas stop sneak dissin'
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| It’s 2016, we ain’t got time for all that, you feel me
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| In the studio, you feel me
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| High as a motherfucker, I just bought a new AR, you feel me
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| We could do this all day my nigga, shit, you hear that?
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| That’s what thirty thousand in hundreds sound like, tah, ugh
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| It’s regular |