| Niggas talkin' it but ain’t livin' it
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| Cristal pops I’m sippin' it, mob hats and lizard shit
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| 'Gator trunks bitch, rollin' blunts with the williest of the willy
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| Heckler Koch, M-1's and nine millies
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| Stories like a motherfucker
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| Model bitches wondering if I’m a fuck with her
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| She know I treats my bitches like Ivana
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| Dolce and Gabana drippin'
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| Big Poppa never slippin'
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| H-class diamonds shinin'
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| Dinner with the wifey winin', dinin'
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| Smoking cigars in Bogotá
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| With Colombian niggas named Panama
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| And Englique and shit
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| Games we play life endin'
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| Bitches bending over with ease
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| For a pair of Moschino jeans
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| And Donna Karan tank tops I got your bank stopped
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| Singles on top
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| Benjamins
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| Under the rest of 'em
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| Advancin'
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| From duplex to mansion
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| Stashing keys hidin' G’s overseas
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| VCR’s in my V’s
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| Game elevates, money I make
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| Gets your stocks and real estates, bitch
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| Jet skiing in the Caribbean, white sands
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| Discussing plans with my mans
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| Dark blue land, smoke tint chrome rims and system
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| That leaves your rear views tremblin'
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| What you gonna do when poppa catch an attitude?
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| Drop to your knees and show gratitude
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| Kiss my rings it’s a Frank White thing I stay potent
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| Bitch is devoted, take my dick and deep throat it
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| Eternal sunshine in this elevated world of mine
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| Looking for this hour glass of time
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| Trying to find my purpose on this grand design
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| Is there anybody out there living?
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| 4−5-6 is on the streets, they shootin
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| Is there any money out there for me?
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| You just listen to this husler’s story
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| Picture me, a product of the zone three
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| Scared lost, don’t know what I’m suppose to be
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| Shit cost, money never came to me
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| When shit short, I suffered unshamelessly
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| The lord humble niggas 'specially if they act like
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| They too big for they draw when they stacks right
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| Think I’m bullshittin'? |
| A bunch of niggas back like
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| Right back hungry, stacks gone, they forgot Christ
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| I know a nigga sold his soul for a nickel rock
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| I know some hoes for the dro you can hit the cock
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| I know a nigga workin' 9−5
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| Been on 15 years, ain’t got a car to drive
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| I know some nigga wanna act hard, flicks pitch
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| Fake jack boys, can’t rob, get killed
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| Got kin folk backyard big whips
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| Escart that lift my homeboy this year
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| Akon
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| While B.I.G. |
| sittin up with Englique
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| I’m on the coastline politickin' wit Jose
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| We got the birds flyin' in the coop all day
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| Tryin' to find a new way to smugglin' pure yay'
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| We bout our business, ain’t no small time thieves
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| If you ain’t growin the 'caine then we ain’t gon' meet
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| See I’m the one to call when things get deep
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| And my Africans will put yo' main man to sleep, now
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| And Mexico far from the block
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| Tryin' to figure out how many Glocks to a box, now
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| Sellin' arms as well as rocks in my socks
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| If you could show me the money, here’s the keys to the lock, now
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| Hey, you know the streets is my territory
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| Ain’t scared of nothin, let you fear it for me
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| Hey, whether win, lose or draw
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| Believe that death is waitin for all
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| Face Mob in the buildin (Uh huh)
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| Niggas is quick to chop rocks and hide hands
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| Make a break for it, get away from it, that was the plan (but)
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| So the whole time, I been plottin' on his man
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| Caught him slippin' and sleepin', I hit his ass wit the can, and
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| Here’s somethin' that you can’t understand
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| How can one be so cold and snatch a nigga’s soul? |
| (Damn)
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| I’m on some get back shit, there comes a time
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| In every man’s mind when it’s deeper than dollar signs
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| I been on the grind, got homies doin' time
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| Behind niggas actin like bitches and bitches droppin' dimes
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| I’m duckin' indictments, pussies is wearing wires
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| Niggas just ain’t tellin', no, they know we let it slide
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| But nah, we gotta ride and him, he gotta die
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| So if you catch up to his ass before I catch him, give him mine
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| The rats one thing a real nigga here despise
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| I’m a five K one killa, I set his ass on fire |