| If you Outta Sight, you Outta Mind
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| You gotta stack, you gotta grind
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| I’m stating facts, these niggas lying
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| You can’t relax and keep wasting time
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| I want them racks I gotta get mine
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| Stacking it up, I work with a stride
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| I went from a deuce, drop down to a nine
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| I sleep with the stars, I know Ima shine
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| Same prices for the rent, that’s the cost of the kicks
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| I’m stacking up racks, just to make a Hitlist
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| My nigga El Chapo, he’ll chop off ya wrist
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| Pull up with them choppas, I know I won’t miss
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| Some niggas get locked up, and turned to a snitch
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| But I kept it silent and hard as a brick
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| Winked at ya bitch, she won’t even give me a kiss
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| Walked in that bitch diamonds dripping like piss
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| Bought an AP, and took my wrist out of the pot
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| Pop a bottle of Ace, and pour that shit out
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| Put some diamonds and chandlers all in the spot
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| How many racks does this young nigga got?
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| I flew to Dubai, I didn’t go to DeVry
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| Hunnit racks to put the jet in the sky
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| Time is music, this the best you can buy
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| I’m dripping bitches, niggas still think they still fly
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| I think I’m the flyest, I ain’t got no stylist
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| I’m geeked up off Molly, I’m fucking off cyris
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| I flew with the choppa, I might catch a body
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| Cause I see these fake niggas through the Cavalli’s
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| I got up on my level, say we and reunited
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| These niggas quote poems, and they bitches like it
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| I did turn a hoe, when I got indcited
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| If I catch a case, then I gotta fight it
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| My nigga called shawty, he ride with the shottie
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| We pull up in Rari’s, and these niggas don’t like us
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| Smoke weed and sip lean and get money my vices
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| My friend name is Poison, and I know they shiesty
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| I pray to the lord and you know that I’m righteous
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| I need a reward, cause they say I’m the nicest
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| Got too many bros that gon' roll out the dices
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| I stay out the way cause niggas like mices
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| If you Outta Sight, you Outta Mind
|
| You gotta stack, you gotta grind
|
| I’m stating facts, these niggas lying
|
| You can’t relax and keep wasting time
|
| I want them racks I gotta get mine
|
| Stacking it up, I work with a stride
|
| I went from a deuce, drop down to a nine
|
| I sleep with the stars, I know Ima shine
|
| Same prices for the rent, that’s the cost of the kicks
|
| I’m stacking up racks, just to make a Hitlist
|
| My nigga El Chapo, he’ll chop off ya wrist
|
| Pull up with them choppas, I know I won’t miss
|
| Some niggas get locked up, and turned to a snitch
|
| But I kept it silent and hard as a brick
|
| Winked at ya bitch, she won’t even give me a kiss
|
| Walked in that bitch diamonds dripping like piss
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| Put the dick in her mouth, and its fuck what ya say
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| Fuck the law, throw the police away
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| I blew a 50, cause I had a long day
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| When it come to money, I done came a long way
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| I fucked the bitch, but I can’t go on no dates
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| She sucked me loose, I put some nut on her face
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| Let her see the lot, she wanna fuck at my place
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| Steady bossin', bitch I’m having my way
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| Niggas in the trap, but can’t get away
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| But I’ve been around the world, it feel like I’m touring
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| I life a life of slaughter like
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| Mama said don’t stop, I gotta keep going
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| Got a house so big, the bed room got an alarm
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| The necklace cost so much it came with a charm
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| The diamonds dripping, like the rain when it storm
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| These niggas say that they looking, well I’m finna' show em
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| So many acres it look like a farm
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| 23 Million like I’m Michael Jordan
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| 2 or 3 bitches, they wanna come join
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| Fuck all these bitches, I feel like a Don
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| I looked in the mirror, I know I’m the one
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| You ain’t gonna shoot, but you carry a gun
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| Niggas act tough, like I won’t bury your son
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| Had to stay down, stack them racks to the month
|
| If you Outta Sight, you Outta Mind
|
| You gotta stack, you gotta grind
|
| I’m stating facts, these niggas lying
|
| You can’t relax and keep wasting time
|
| I want them racks I gotta get mine
|
| Stacking it up, I work with a stride
|
| I went from a deuce, drop down to a nine
|
| I sleep with the stars, I know Ima shine
|
| Same prices for the rent, that’s the cost of the kicks
|
| I’m stacking up racks, just to make a Hitlist
|
| My nigga El Chapo, he’ll chop off ya wrist
|
| Pull up with them choppas, I know I won’t miss
|
| Some niggas get locked up, and turned to a snitch
|
| But I kept it silent and hard as a brick
|
| Winked at ya bitch, she won’t even give me a kiss
|
| Walked in that bitch diamonds dripping like piss
|
| Yeah
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| Yeah
|
| Yeah
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| Yeah
|
| Yeah |