| Tommy Mottola, lives on the road
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| He lost his lady, two months ago
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| Maybe he’ll find her, maybe he won’t
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| Oh wonder that love
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| Brothers try to pass me, but none could match me
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| No girl can freak me, I’m just too nasty
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| Lost on the dance floors, I attack y’all
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| Snuck through the back door, guess who they saw?
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| Goldie and Ghost, black African Rose
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| Star-studded low lenses, plus the mural was dope
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| Airbrush W-B's, STOP! |
| (Shake your body, body)
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| And cop a couple of these (She's a hottie, hottie)
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| Scottfree and Chauncey, very upset
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| They’re sick and tired of living in debt
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| Tired of roaches and tired of
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| Rats
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| I know they are over
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| One in the head, I’m fed, this is how we doin
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| Put a Ruff Rider on my dick, bust right through 'em
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| Come out your shirt, insert the party rhyme
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| Fine Dr. Buzzard, Bacardi Lime
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| We passin it, takes the shake your Calvin Klein
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| Before the floor gets moist, taste and follow mine
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| Swallow nine, model dimes from Bahamas
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| Slim doo-doo makers stuffed inside pajamas
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| They’ll take all your rhymes with a Colgate smile, hey baby
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| They’ll love you one second, then hate you the next
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| Oh ain’t it crazy baby, yeah
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| Tony’s his name, the undefeated champion, whoa, yeah (Blow 'em down God)
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| Now he’s alone, he’s just the king of his throne (Yeah, aha)
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| Always will be my friend, Ghostface Killah (Truly yours, peace boo) |