| I’m a gold mouth dawg, definition of the South
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| Ain’t no quarters, ain’t no halves, just some wholes in 'dis house
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| Ain’t no bitch, it ain’t no bed, it ain’t no clothes in dis house
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| It’s a drought, and my price will make yo eyes pop out
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| I can’t neva count my stash 'cause I always loose count
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| I can’t neva keep no bitch 'cause I put them hoes out
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| I was corner store and in the motel in it, selling it
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| You can check my rap sheet, its numerous felonies
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| I took twenty-three stacks, and bought some jet skis
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| Have pity for the cop who gotta arrest me
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| A front street, jump street, then jump out, itss a track meet
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| Use to have a ten-speed, now I got a Bentley
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Every time they swing my door
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| I count 18−5 every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Yeah, them prices real low
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| But they gon' search you up and down
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| Every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| And you know they swing my door
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| And it’s 18−5 every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Yeah, them prices real low
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| But they gon' search you up and down
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| Every time they swing my door
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| I got my rims finger-fucked by a god dam J
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| Gave him 1.8 of some hard ass yay
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| It’s a lot of crack smokers in the apartments where I stay
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| And I know they name and face 'cause I serve them everyday
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| Had a 98' Caprice, was a rollin' drug store
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| You ain’t got all the money, what you call my phone fo'?
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| Rob me, six feet, in the dirt you 'bout to go
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| Layin' with the coroner with a tag placed on your toe
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| I can lock the whole town if I break the shit down
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| But it might be slow, so I’m sellin' shit whole
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| I can lock the whole town if I break the shit down
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| But I’m lettin' shit go and I’m sellin' shit whole
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Every time they swing my door
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| I count 18−5 every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Yeah, them prices real low
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| But they gon' search you up and down
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| Every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| And you know they swing my door
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| And it’s 18−5 every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Yeah, them prices real low
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| But they gon' search you up and down
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| Every time they swing my door
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| Niggas call me «thrift store» 'cause the know the price low
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| I count 18 rubber bands every time I swing my door
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| Breaker, breaker, beaker, beaker
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| Spent 350 on the sneakers
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| It came from servin' geekers
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| Yella' 'Vette nicknamed Chiquta
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| A clear coat Chevy, same color Aquafina
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| Quarter million dollar lick, that changed my whole demeanor
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| Ridin' a scooter through South Beach, lookin' for a Trina bitch
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| Diamond necklace, diamond anklet, diamond princess, Bimmer bitch
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| I change lanes, paint change, hangin' out the brain dawg
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| Bottles of champagne and it came from sellin 'caine dawg
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| Coca-cola, pickin' yola, and it stank, you smell the odor
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| When I sk-sk-sk-sk-skrrt, I bet it jump back over, over
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| Ridin' in my rental, got a Rover in my pocket, though
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| 84 stack, 'bout to take a trip to Mexico
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| Nigga violate, I’ma kill him and slit his throat
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| Smoke a blunt of dro, then take my ho to Pappadeaux’s
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Every time they swing my door
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| I count 18−5 every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Yeah, them prices real low
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| But they gon' search you up and down
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| Every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| And you know they swing my door
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| And it’s 18−5 every time they swing my door
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| Swing my door, swing my door
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| Yeah, them prices real low
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| But they gon' search you up and down
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| Every time they swing my door, nigga
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| That boy Gucci
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| That nigga Burn on the track, nigga
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| Yeah, Gucci Mane, La Flare, nigga
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| Uh-huh, uh-huh |