| I just poured up like four zips
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| One-double-O like four grips, gangster and you know this
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| Just took a Vegas trip, Caesar’s Palace, stabbing your bitch
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| Finna go trick off your cheese, pissing off these police
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| I’m big dope drinking, make sure my eighty-four stinking
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| Haters can’t contest, just K.Y.S., I suicide that Lincoln
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| Broad day, all day, crack rock in my hallway
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| I was sixteen serving sixteens off fifteen from Broadway
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| Hard yay, got a nigga thugging out that UGK tape
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| Niggas 'bout that shit and we hit our first lick, with a little deuce deuce and
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| a tre eight
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| And bitch my pack just hit the mail, I’ma get that scale, I can’t wait
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| Nigga for all this rap shit, these niggas plastic claim they Gs but they ain’t
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| It’s Gangsta Gibbs, bitch
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| Nigga fucked your bitch and left it wetter, mane
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| Staying on my G and about my cheddar, mane
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| Rapper slash feet in the dope game
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| Certified live from the land of the gang bang
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| It’s Rock
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| Eighty-seven cut, dog
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| Oh no, I ain’t got Mercedes
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| Haters out there tryna take me
|
| Pop the trunk or pop a crazy
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| Like a barber keeping them extra clippers
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| Drop 'bout eighty, I drive 'em crazy when I deliver
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| Mind your business we living life and just stacking riches
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| Picture me rolling on my phone, scrolling through pussy pictures
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| Pussy nigga, you in the way, so just step aside
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| You can’t swim with these sharks, you drowning all in your pride
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| We moving with killers in broad day
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| It’s a cold world, keeping them heaters on all day
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| All day, oh yeah we riding with them clappers
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| Cause them bitch-ass niggas praying on us heavy like some pastors
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| And them feds tryna have our phone tapped
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| Like some dirty-ass water out the faucet, out the trap
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| Jay Rock, Freddie Gibbs, 'bout to kill it, hide your feelings
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| If you show your hands then we gunning and you finished |