| Pullin' up at tha club in a 67 'lac
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| Wit tha champagne color, drop top, blowin on a sack
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| We were rollin like some macs, peepin all foes
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| I got to Valet, my baby, cause she sittin on some all golds
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| Now Lucci call those, ladies wit fitness
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| So we can handle our business, and let em know, jus how we kick it
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| It’s time to let em know tha real crooks are on tha scene
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| Unkindly to these hoes unless tha finally got some cheese
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| Now bring on tha weed, let’s float on cloud 30−30
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| I said a few lines, she grab my hand, I knew she heard me
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| I sat at tha bar afta rollin' up tha cake
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| Then they mixed that Grand Moyea wit that damn Kovasea
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| French Connection and some hay, we were blowin fool
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| I can’t keep drinkin like this, I gotta hop up in tha old school
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| Playin it so cool, and still smokin
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| Locin up wit this tight, bright stallion, I had spoken
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| Baby, come and get some
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| Mr. Pookie, Mr. Lucci wit tha big guns
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| Playaz havin bug fun, now tell me do you want some
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| I’m at tha bar laced out on French Connection
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| Bout it, Bout it, baby!!! |
| Now once again, this playa stepped in, wit tha first class dressin
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| Teachin lessons on impression, toward tha VIP section
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| Me and Pookie steady wreckin, headshots of French Connections
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| Green depressions, got me in a zone of balla flexin
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| Crooked down Dallas, Texas, stackin G’s while I’m plexin
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| Stoneycrook niggas, runnin everythang, dont even test them
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| Hopped up and I’m chopped up on tha dance floor, showin mo luv
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| Yella bone eyes locked up, when I’m propped up wit my soljaz
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| It’s so much, green cover for tha PrimeCo phone holder
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| See tha Don man’s and tha golds, bruh
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| Crooked pest games wit her shoulda
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| And I told her, meet me at tha bar bout 3
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| Go gather up some of yo freaks, while I find Pookie
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| Jacuzzi’s and Dubbie’s, wit new Ki’s, wha it’s gon be
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| Green trees and Don P, droppin tops through Dallas deep
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| Coolin out wit my G’s, niggas that you can’t tame
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| Hoes strikin down crooked P’s, hurricane wit a Kango
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| Chillin at tha bar, gettin tipsy off tha drank
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| French Connection got me feelin like a nigga wanna faint |
| Now I’m rollin up tha cake wit my eyes on tha crowd
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| Pookie and Lucci, blowin like we floatin on a cloud
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| Feelin' me now? |
| See, I’m tha chiffer of all chiffers
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| Figure it out, now take it slow and catch a breather
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| Ya trippin' me out, now throw that booty like its lethal
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| Show tha butt, hold it up, bounce it for tha people
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| Yes, I see you in tha back of tha club, takin photos
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| I’m finna blow hoe, look round, wassup wit tha dodo
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| I want some mo 'fo, I can’t get wrapped up in my own world
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| Stallion wit long pearls, sexy now its on gurl
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| You wit yo friends and I’m wit a couple 2
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| Jus hold onto tha number, we’ll see you in a day or 2
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| Pissy, tipsy wit my crew steady jiggin for fun
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| Now tell tha people to come and get some |