| If being filthy rich is a crime
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| I guess I’m guilty bitch
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| I guess I’m guilty bitch
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| I killed the rap and last night
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| I pleaded self-defense
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| I guess I’m guilty bitch
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| I guess I’m guilty bitch
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| These suckas talking nonsense
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| I killed your homeboy
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| Cause I don’t have a conscience
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| I’m strapped like Bronson
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| Brick Squad, Trap House, beat bunking
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| I’m wild like Tarzan
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| I’m swinging through the Zone 6
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| In Ferraris. |
| It’s on again
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| I go to win, strap-for-strap
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| I go rap for rap, I rep the trap
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| Refuse the death but game to slap
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| My phone is tapped
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| I’m off the wall and off the scale
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| Came out of jail like
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| A bat out of hell
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| I refuse to pay up, gotta salute the myth
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| Got Clientele, I might as well
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| I’m moving weight from state-to-state
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| I gots to get my aconchelet (?)
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| I know the feds be watching me
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| But there ain’t no way they stopping me
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| Drop a pack off to my lawyer
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| Take these charges, overturn em
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| Roll the kush in my trial papers
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| And burn em — I’m not going
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| The fork in it and my Glock showing
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| If it don’t shine then it’s not glowing
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| Ain’t mine if it’s not foreign
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| Broke ho — bitch you not knowing!
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| They was rap touring I was behind the bus
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| With packs for em
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| Didn’t plan on digging this up
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| But I need a shovel
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| Good looking, Gucci got me back
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| I’m trying to buy another
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| Pounds of mid and my college bitch’s
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| House neighbors complaining about the smell
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| They got her kicked out
|
| They popping down to the last pill
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| In Cashville
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| I’m getting it fast still, on the real
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| I feel it |