| Ells, seven, squells
|
| Squell bells, what the fuck?
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| Break that bitch purse, man
|
| (Gunplay!)
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| She see me grabbing on my tulip
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| She told me smack on her booty
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| She say I got too many hoes
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| She say I got too many shows
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| She workin', she twerkin'
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| I’m pimpin', you simpin'
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| I’m pimping like I’m
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| Your’e simping like you should
|
| My face all on my poster
|
| Counting, gripping, gripping wood
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| Under surveillance, police need a bigger lense 'cause
|
| I bought another rollie, and a bigger Benz
|
| Bitches fuck with me, they know
|
| They gotta break their purse
|
| She choosin' with the best
|
| 'Cause she’s stressing with the worst
|
| Your’e fucking with the trill
|
| The other niggas just prototypes
|
| Don Logan, might, I don’t even hold a mic
|
| Lame-ass niggas singing songs for these dicksuckers
|
| Same song she playing
|
| While she let another trick fuck her
|
| Time equals money, so ho ya better cock it
|
| Bitch better suck it in my pocket like a rocket |