| A landslide, nigga
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| Huh, this shit is, this shit is a landslide, nigga
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| Uh, this the theme music for the pie stretchers (Whip up)
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| I whipped five, I got five extras (Hah)
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| Three Everybody is F.O.O.D tapes, a trifecta (Cap)
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| Show these niggas in the game how to apply pressure (Rock shit up, nigga)
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| All my bitches got a bag and they drive Tesla (Uh-huh)
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| Bust down the Cubans, I lit my neck up (You see the neck, bitch)
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| Landslidin' on niggas, don’t even try to catch us
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| Hollow tips flyin' out of my Heckler (Brr)
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| We came a long way from that Digiscale
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| That shit too small to weigh up the shit I sell (Hahaha)
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| Pink Spade for my bitch, she don’t do Zinfandel
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| Y’all ain’t the only niggas gettin' money, boy, we rich as well (Hah)
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| Rich as hell, shooter empty out his clip and bail (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| Sniffin' yayo so long, he lost his sense of smell (Smell shit)
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| Before I left Cali, I sent the bale (Haha)
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| Hit Goose, told him, «Look out for it, it’s in the mail»
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| I leave a nigga living room floor full of blicky shells (Brr)
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| Broke, we gotta kill his baby mama too, that bitch’ll tell (Get that bitch too)
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| I’m stackin' all the profit off of every brick I sell (Cap)
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| I bet you pussy niggas wish I fail (Hahaha)
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| Ah, hand on my clip, we animals, dismantle my strip
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| I’m 5'8″ but 6'11″ if I stand on my bricks
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| I cancel y’all quick with the Glock I shoot cannonballs with (Doot, doot, doot)
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| I sat in prison, walkin' the yard, just plannin' all this (Ah)
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| Uh, unknown location, I got thirty Os (I got thirty Os)
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| 'Cause I’m too smart for that stash in the dirty clothes
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| I’m in the kitchen countin' cash, does she disturb me? |
| No
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| Revenge a dish for greedy niggas, you gotta serve it cold (Suckers)
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| I had to move where the climate hot (Hot)
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| I took the money off the corner and invested that in private stock
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| Bet you know I still run the kinda spot (Yeah)
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| Hustlers buy the bricks in the back and the front is just a tire shop (Ah)
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| Big guns, ain’t no quiet shots (Ain't no quiet shots)
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| I’ll be fine if you die or not, plus I’m equipped if a riot pop (We got guns,
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| nigga)
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| I threw the whole clip but he survived the shots (Brr)
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| I guess my aim was on but the timing not (Damn)
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| Felony shit, you can never be clipped (Nigga)
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| One night stands with women I would never be with
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| My OG puttin' me on, he love tellin' me shit
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| Said, «Black men in America could never be rich», The Butcher
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| Flygod
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| Ayo, rockin' wonders (Ah)
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| Wonderin' if I should rock John Undercover for the whole summer
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| Pole with the scratched numbers (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| We wore Fear of Gods to the last supper (Ah)
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| So much coke, I made the Pyrex glass suffer
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| House of the Very Islands, stylin'
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| Dope pilin' on China, put the .40 to him, started firin' (Boom, boom, boom,
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| boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| Plain Jane, said I’m ahead of my time again (Ahead of my time again)
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| Back whippin' them nines again, back to back Lambs on Fairfax (Skrrt)
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| Ran out of Sweet Chick, blew the nigga head back (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom,
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| boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| Jetta to the Beverly Center
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| Bloodstains in the fifth seat, gave the blick to valet
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| Now you rich, M16 vicious, don’t come my way, I spray (Doot, doot, doot, doot,
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| doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
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| I’m out in Tribeca baggin' up yay
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| Paint all on my North Face, the worst case, I’ma be rich
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| Collina Strada my bitch (Huh?), I’m on the yard on my drip (Huh?)
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| I had the Audemars wrist (Huh?), the Phillipe tucked in my Timbs (Huh?)
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| You better have my commissary or you gettin' that biz (Ah)
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| Jewelry out with my kids |