| Twysted Genius, baby
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| Get back, get back
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| Yeah (Wop)
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| Ha, yeah
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| Ha
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| Man, this shit crazy
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| I’m in Miami with Gucci, Rolls Royce look like flavors
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| This murder shit ain’t nothin' to me, whackin' shit on the daily
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| Lil' bitch say she ain’t heard of me, told the lil' bitch she gazin'
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| Still trappin' up out my flip, wish I could go trap out my pages
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| I see these niggas hatin', I ain’t losin' sleep about it, though
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| Members creep like TLC, .223 shells out the Jeep
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| No one gon' take care of me the way that I take care of me
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| Get booked in from security, your bodyguard ain’t scarin' me
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| Put your friend in therapy, you know I did it, barely live
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| Askin' me, «Take care of it,» I squash it if I pay the bills
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| I don’t plan to take his gang to play, no, I don’t play with them
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| I don’t freepick niggas, when I beef, I show no favoritism
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| Lil' boy still need training wheels, these army guns, not baby pistols
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| All these folks and babies in my house, I’m like a babysitter
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| Gucci Mane, it’s Shiesty, twins, we bait 'em and then play the nigga
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| But shit get frenzy, twin F&N's, stand on ten, I raised the nigga
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| Shootin' first, then did the verse, my bank account go crazy, nigga
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| Police keep on tasin' niggas, one shot killed him, matched the nigga
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| Shiesty, that’s my dawg, no, ain’t no way I’m tradin', nigga
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| No shade, I’m too rich to fade, he ran up, so I blazed the nigga
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| Man, this shit crazy
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| I’m in Miami with Gucci, Rolls Royce look like flavors
|
| This murder shit ain’t nothin' to me, whackin' shit on the daily
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| Lil' bitch say she ain’t heard of me, told the lil' bitch she gazin'
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| Still trappin' up out my flip, wish I could go trap out my pages
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| Sent your mama to snitch on me, man, these niggas some bitches
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| Makin' posts, sendin' threats and shit, where I’m from, man, it’s snitchin'
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| Might jump out on your block with the semi and get to tickin'
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| Race to you with this choppa, stand over you 'til you finished
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| My niggas icky, so many choppas in one car, man, look, this shit ridiculous
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| We drove fourteen hours from Memphis with dope and some Glizzies
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| We keep steppin' and keep on spinnin', we constantly be sendin'
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| Choppa Gang run the city
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| Man, this shit crazy
|
| I’m in Miami with Gucci, Rolls Royce look like flavors
|
| This murder shit ain’t nothin' to me, whackin' shit on the daily
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| Lil' bitch say she ain’t heard of me, told the lil' bitch she gazin'
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| Still trappin' up out my flip, wish I could go trap out my pages |