| Damn, what you doing over here?
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| Wassup?
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| Yeah I was thinking about you the other day
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| And I was thinking I should have never fucked wit’your ass
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| I should have left you right where I found you
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| My bad (echo)
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| When I was wit you all you ever do was bitch
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| Talk shit, but you could suck dick
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| So I didn’t sweat all the fussin’and cussin'
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| On New Year’s Eve, the night I was bussin'(wow)
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| I would stress and strain to mantain
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| And didn’t need to hear your motherfuckin ass complain
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| About niggaz in the house (mm), feet on the couch
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| Talkin’all loud (yeah), blunt in my mouth (yeah)
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| Bitch I got fifty cents on this genesis
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| Talkin''bout niggaz got to vacate the premises
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| (She ??) Homie history
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| An’outa nowhere your ass got heart
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| Poured out the pub, then you got drugged
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| We at it again, I tried to count to ten
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| There’s no end to your naggin'
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| You can’t treat me like I’m faggin', ho You see I’m saggin'(no)
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| Why I gotta act like a motherfucking asshole (why)
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| To be king of my motherfucking castle
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| You’ll never be the missus (never)
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| Breakin’all my dishes
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| And fuck all my X-bitches
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| Fuck you, fuck you and fuck you
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| The world ain’t yours, the world ain’t yours
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| On an’off, off an’on, bitch I’m grown
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| So stop playing on my phone (stop)
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| It was a time we used to bump and grind
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| And find heaven (ahh)
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| Without a motherfucking reverend
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| Manage troiges and bomb-ass massages
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| And dreams of three-car garages
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| You say I’m cheating when I’m up at the studio
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| Come to find out you the ho, oh And you was way out
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| Talkin''bout rap, was gonna play ya And I was wasting my time writing rhyme (hahaha)
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| You made yourself loud and clear
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| You wanted me to choose between you and my career (bitch)
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| Started fucking with this baller named Chris
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| Couldn’t resist the Rolex on his wrist
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| I kept on writing my raps with profanity
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| Now I’m on tour fucking bitches like vanity
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| You tried to diss this, now you miss this
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| And the first and fifteenth is like Christmas
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| Send me naked pictures but give it a rest
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| With Mrs Ice Cube tatood on your breast
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| Now you at the back door of my show
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| Dressed like a ho, aksin’could you blow (no)
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| Hell no but it’s still delicious
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| Went from rags to riches
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| And fuck all my X-bitches
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| Fuck you, fuck you, especially you
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| The world ain’t yours, the world ain’t yours
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| Now I hear you sayin’Yeah I used to fuck 'im
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| Not lettin''em know I was a young buck then
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| Niggaz aksin’me Man, did you love her?
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| Loved her stupid ass enough to fuck her with a rubber (bitch)
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| Now I hear, I’m your big brother (who?)
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| Second cousin, friend
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| Bitch since when?
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| Incest ain’t the way I swing (nah)
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| Never bought your ass a goddamn thing
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| That I had to pay for
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| I was hateful
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| Ungrateful (uh) and never faithful
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| Fuckin’everything that I could get my paws on Walkin’through hell with gasoline draws on Now I’m on the mic, music is my life
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| Kids and a wife, heard you was a dyke (damn)
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| It’s your thing if you like the switches
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| But it’s my world and fuck all my X-bitches
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| Never go down the same road twice
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| Advice from the big homie Ice Cube
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| Hmm, girl you better get away from here
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| I don’t want that shit no more
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| Na, na ahem, and don’t be callin’at my mama’house neither
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| I’m through wit’you. |
| I’m through wit’you
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| I done got smarter. |
| I done got smarter
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| I ain’t fuckin’wit’your daughter |