| Threw on a white T and 501 jeans
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| Jammed everything I can in my pockets, car keys
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| With a box of backwoods, weed, card, and my visa
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| I would never leave the crib without these, bruh
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| Made my way out my building full of crackheads
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| Picked an eighth up from the rasta with the fat dreads
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| Couple daps now I’m 'bout to go and stack bread
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| Cause a closed mouth don’t get fed, that’s what dad said
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| With that said, met up with the homie Breezy
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| Grabbed breakfast, got my eggs over-easy
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| Started plotting 'bout the next few months
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| Got a tour and an album so we gotta move, son
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| They out to chit-chat til the sky pitch black
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| But I’m busy, S.C.R.A.M
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| Holla back
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| Scrizzy S.C.R.A.M
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| Going heavy on the man
|
| I’m going heavy on the man
|
| Scrizzy, scrizzy, scram, scrizzy
|
| Scrizzy, scrizzy, scram
|
| Scrizzy scram
|
| Crooked letter C ram
|
| I’m going heavy on the man
|
| Scrizzy, scrizzy, scram, scrizzy
|
| Scrizzy, scrizzy, scram
|
| Headed to my whip, give the valet man a tip
|
| When I see a group of kids and they asking for a flick
|
| So I pose, they get close, but they taking hella minutes though
|
| Let me guess, camera setting was on video
|
| Traffic on the 10, get a call from my friend
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| While I’m talking on the phone, get pulled over by a pig
|
| Like a dick he wrote a ticket, but I ain’t losing time at all
|
| S.C.R.A.M, middle finger while I’m driving off
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| To the studio, put him in a rap
|
| Put his first, middle, last name, number on his badge
|
| That’s a wrap, mix it down, then release the fucking track
|
| don’t tell me to relax
|
| Okay, we vibing off the demo
|
| I’m mobbing with my kin folk
|
| I made a left on Pico
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| To swoop this little nympho
|
| We headed to the function
|
| I love this bitch’s steelo
|
| I took her to the key club
|
| We cut a gang of people
|
| Easy access, homie I’m that good
|
| Trees and capsules, liquor with handles
|
| She’s an actress, little miss Hollywood
|
| Scenes on my mattress, iPhone classics
|
| Damn, isn’t S.C.R.A.M life fantastic
|
| I said damn, don’t we got a flight to catch
|
| In the morning, drop the the chick off, then I dips off
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| I’d rather listen to my hit song |