| Play your part
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| Sweet Jones!
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| My bitch a choosy lover, never fuck without a rubber
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| Never in the sheets, like it on top of the cover
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| Money on the dresser, drive a compressor
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| Top notch ho’s get the most, not the lesser
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| Trash like the fuck for 40 dollars in the club
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| Fucking up the game, bitch you gets no love
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| She be cross country givin' all that she got
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| A thousand a pop, I’m pullin' Bentleys off the lot
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| I smashed up the gray one, bought me a red
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| Every time we hit the parking lot we turn heads
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| Some ho’s wanna choose, but them bitches too scary
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| Your bitch chose me, you ain’t a pimp you a fairy
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| Pump that shit
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| Now walk it out
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| West Side walk it out
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| South Side walk it out
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| East Side walk it out
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| North Side walk it out
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| Now hit the dance floor
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| And bend your back low
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| She do it with no hands
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| Now stop pop and roll
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| I’m smoking bubba ho
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| Now they in trouble ho
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| I like the way she move
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| An undercover ho
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| It’s on once again
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| Patron once again
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| I threw my head back
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| Then I froze like the Wind
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| West Side walk it out
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| South Side walk it out
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| East Side walk it out
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| North Side walk it out
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| We’re not gonna take it
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| You can show me how
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| Uh uh, no way, you can show me how
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| No, we ain’t gonna take it!
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| You can show me how
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| Uh uh, no way, you can show me how
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| We’re not gonna take it… anymore!
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| Hey, hey, you can show me how
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| Uh uh, no way, you can show me how
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| Ok, we poppin' champagne like we won a championship game
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| Look like I got on a championship ring
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| Cause I ball hard
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| No bitch we ball harder
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| I am the Birdman
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| And I’m J-R-uh
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| Bitch I’m paid, that’s all I gotta say
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| What you know about that?
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| What you know about that?
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| Bitch I’m paid, that’s all I gotta say
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| What you know about that?
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| I know all about that
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| Bitch I’m paid, that’s all I gotta say
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| Can’t see you lil' niggas, the money in the way
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| And I-I'm sitting high, a gansta ride blazed
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| If you ain’t gonna ride fly then you may as well hate, shit
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| I gotta eat, yeah even though I ate
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| Even though it ain’t my birthday but I got my name on the cake, shit
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| Believe that and if ya mans wanna play
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| I’mma fuck around and put the boy’s brains on the table
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| Hey pick 'em up, fuck 'em, let 'em-lay
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| Where I’m from we see a fuckin' dead body everyday
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| Look, uptown, throw a stack at 'em
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| Make a song about me, I’m throwin' shots back at 'em (pop)
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| Bitch I’m a pipe, she like a crack addict
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| If she saw me cookin' eggs, she thought I was back at it
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| I grab my keys, ho I gotta go
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| I got my motorcycle jacket and my motorcycle loafs
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| Cause nothing compares
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| What you know about that?
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| Nothing compares… to you
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| What you know about that?
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| I was gettin' some head
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| Gettin', gettin' some head
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| I was gettin' some head
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| Gettin', gettin' some head
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| Nothing compares
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| What you know about that?
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| Nothing compares… to you
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| I know all about that
|
| I was gettin' some head
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| Gettin', gettin' some head
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| I was with the kinda girl that make your toes curl |