| Ear Drummers
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| My posse on Bouldercrest
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| Mike WiLL Made-It, Gucci Mane slayed it
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| Me and my gang at home away from home
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| In a all-red Phantom, in the backseat on the phone
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| It’s callin' up the posse, it’s time to get rippin'
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| And if they get to trippin', then we shootin' like the Pistons
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| Everybody lookin', if you jealous, turn around
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| These twenty-six inches got us so high off the ground
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| The Forgiato rims, they’re skinny as the tires
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| My system soundin' good, but I need the volume higher
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| The Mike-WiLL kick drum make the bitches get dumb
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| Rollin' Rolls-Royces, so the jealous wanna get some
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| Every time we do this, these niggas wanna battle
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| I’m the man they love to hate, the richest one in East Atlanta
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| Picked up the posse on 34 and Gresham
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| Headed up to Bouldercrest, we 'bout to start flexin'
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| The Phantom kind of crowded, the front was leanin' back
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| Scarr, he in the Birdie, got two bitches in his lap
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| On Martin Luther King, the set look kind of dead
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| We need a new street, so posse move ahead
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| We all drippin' in ice, the crew you can’t forget
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| The So Icey Boys and we rippin' up the set
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| My posse’s on Bouldercrest
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| My posse’s on Bouldercrest (Mike WiLL Made-It)
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| The cash is rollin' in, my posse’s gettin' bored
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| There’s not another posse with more points scored
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| We stone cold criminals, we flex like big gorillas
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| We not the average artist, bitch, we certified killers
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| I spent a million dollars just for diamonds on my teeth
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| And every time they see 'em, make their girls get weak
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| People think we crazy, some think that we are funny
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| But it ain’t hard to tell that we make a lot of money
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| We clockin' all the dollars, we rock a lot of gold
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| The other crews mad 'cause we fuckin' all they hoes
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| Woodland, Custer Ave, me and my crew are thugs
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| And they so full of drugs they may never sober up
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| And I’m a dope man and the pack just dropped
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| If you ain’t tryna cop, then this Phantom won’t stop
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| At Boulevard and Moreland the driver broke left
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| And Shiesty shouted «Bouldercrest, it’s time to get def»
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| My girl blew me a kiss, she said I was the best
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| She’s lookin' mighty freaky in her black silk dress
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| The closer that we get, the crazier I feel
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| My posse on Bouldercrest, it’s time to get ill
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| Certified, I’m that lil' nigga that make big ones pay respects
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| CGE, 1017, covered in choppas and baguettes
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| We just flew one of they niggas, tryna see who gon' be next
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| Soon as I burn up this steamer, take me where I parked the 'Vette
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| Why he keep talkin' like he gangster? |
| Cook him, put him to the test
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| My opps don’t never show they background, know I’ll send some' where they at
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| Them pigs can ask a million questions, still won’t get me to say shit
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| It ain’t no tellin' who got shot, if you don’t know, you never slid
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| And they can’t act like they don’t know me, remember I flew out your bitch
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| I take they Rollies and their chains, nigga, I’m the reason you hide your wrist
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| For real menace, been causin' hell, I done did shit you can’t forget
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| I got glizzies around the globe, it ain’t shit to get to them sticks
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| 1017, livin' a dream, come eat with us, we’ll get you rich
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| My posse’s on Bouldercrest (Big blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd, blrrrd)
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| My posse’s on Bouldercrest
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| My posse’s on Bouldercrest
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| My posse’s on Bouldercrest |