| My lifestyles crazy, I'm luxury lazy
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| So much gold that jewelry don’t phase me
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| Coroless phone, eight or nine homes
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| Girlies on my Jammie with Ice-T Jones
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| Bank account boomin', fast lane zoomin'
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| Known around the world for my high post groomin'
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| Mac like a preacher, love like a teacher
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| Got a girl who lives in Paris
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| When I want her I beep her
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| Too many clothes, gotta rag top rolls
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| 1.000 Watt system and my speakers are bose
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| I kick it like a champ, I throught you knew it
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| But pimpin' ain’t easy
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| But somebody gotta do it
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| My thumbs are tired just from countin' cash
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| No more room in my diamond stash
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| Filin' my nails is such a tirin' task
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| Gold knobs on my benzo dash
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| Five freaks just to comb my hair
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| Monograms on my underwear
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| Bodyguards around so please don’t dare
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| You’re takin' a chance if you just stop and stare
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| Livin' my life is just so hard to do
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| Makin' deals a million one or two
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| Buyin' new cars for my entire crew
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| Matching Ferraris, E's black, mine's blue
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| Can’t swin a lap in my pool because it’s just too long
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| Could never go broke because my banks too strong
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| No matter what I do I simply can’t go wrong
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| And I’ll make money, I don’t need this damn song
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| But somebody’s gotta do it
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| When I walk in a joint, punks always look at me hard
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| Because I wear enough gold to tie a dog in a yard
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| Cold maxin' in my mansion so big it’s silly
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| Got a butler named Humphry and a maid named Milly
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| Mink sheets on my bed, that's what I said
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| Gourmet chefs in my kitchem so that I can get fed
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| So tired of sailin' on my boat I might just Helicopter
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| To my jet and catch a midnight flight
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| So many girls in my book, it weighs a tom
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| Gotta leave the damn country just to have some fun
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| Private suite at the track to watch the ponies run
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| And there ain’t nothin' in the word
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| That me an «E"ain't done
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| But somedody gotta do it |