| Teeth deep in disbelief
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| A bunch of people peep the pose
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| We got prose
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| We got cons on the road
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| On patrol, We leave heater bombs on they toes
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| Welcome to the village where my river runs Nia Long
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| High ceilings, bong ripping, white feeling
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| Technicians, hype dealings
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| I cracked my window seal in
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| She cracked that wishing pill in
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| I swear this shit feel like Jesse Jackson with a pipe
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| Or Lisa on a hike mixed with Rosa on a bike
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| Until they pull me over, flying saucers of blue lights
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| We got offers, we got offers, man
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| Please step off the ice
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| I swear a giant cup of Shut The Fuck Up do you right
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| You might even go live it, you know nigga your life
|
| That’s what I told the critic when he asked me bout specifics
|
| Zulu lifted, you ain’t gifted
|
| My KeKe Palmer hold the karma in her hands sifted
|
| Well what do you know? |
| A couple of more incredible hoes
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| Address them as such cause they don’t know much
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| I tried to put them on but they don’t know hush
|
| These queens, they just know blush
|
| Supreme 'til I stick my solar system in the middle of they little
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| I-don't-think-you-hear-me really soggy dreams
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| Now we up all night like some coffee fiends
|
| I swear the time’s always right unless I’m counting things
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| But see I’m from a place where they got poplar trees, gumming in those taller
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| things so you have to follow me
|
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| And everywhere we go, I bet we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| And everywhere we go, we still finding new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| Pleasure myself to images of wealth
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| Ain’t it funny how a 100 look like sex?
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| My dick in two vaginas, 100 dollars worth of mess
|
| Slick and slimy, get behind me while I get beside myself
|
| I promise the pressure is enormous
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| So much so that niggas forget what the point is until the barrels pointed like
|
| it was at me and moms on that Thomasville morning
|
| Rest in peace Richard Lee, I cried when they played that organ
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| But, anyway—this for my pops in that Vote Lee Wise T-shirt, chillin' on the
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| couch
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| Shake his head at the news and tell me what life’s about
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| Now it’s liquor in his juice, the knowledge keep coming out
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| Probably cause he done seen the shit that I’m worried bout
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| Probably cause he done dreamed the shit that I’m dreaming now
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| So you fuck niggas, keep my name out your mouth
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| And make room for my dick when the beat drop
|
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| And everywhere we go, we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| And everywhere we go, I bet we find some new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
|
| And everywhere we go, we still finding new Britneys and Ashley Nicoles
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| Now bring it back baby, throw it back, throw it back, bring it back while I eat
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| it from the back baby |