| Mami in a damn Range, do your damn thing
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| And don’t be mad at me, because your man’s lame
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| My boys call me Stumik, cuz it’s my damn name
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| Now let’s get it poppin', just like champagne
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| And it’s a damn shame, cuz you deserve better
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| I’m a baller, I can show you how to burn cheddar
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| Or we can walk, hand to hand, with shoulders
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| Cuz my flow’ll get you open like a can of soda
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| If we was snakes, I’m the man with the cobra
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| So why don’t you get rid of that lizard, and come lamp with a soldier
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| Cuz I’m your first pick, and your dude is worthless
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| And if you don’t understand, then boo, it’s like this, listen
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| If love don’t cost a thing, why is she chasing my paper, chasing my paper
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| I got a feeling in my heart that tells me something ain’t right,
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| something ain’t right
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| Baby you could do what you do, you ain’t got to do me no favors, do me no favors
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| I could of been the one that made that change in your life, change in your life
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| It seem like yo, everytime I turn around, you got your hand out
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| The only word I hear is 'money' out your damn mouth
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| It’s all love, then why it seem like
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| When you see money, I got this green light
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| But when the bread’s gone, Paulie’s in a red zone
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| Got to get my badge patched up and go the hell home
|
| You need a manicure, you need a pedicure
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| You need to chop and cop something out of every store
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| And when you out of cash, you want to spend mine
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| But I ain’t strippin', bitch, I’m dippin' on you this time
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| I’m a breeze, don’t holla, chill
|
| Because I’ll rather be single like a dollar bill
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| Look, I’m razor sharp, ain’t no cut in my throat
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| If you smell me, you see I’m dope, ain’t no cuttin' my coke
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| I’m still, rough with the quotes, still, puffin' my smoke
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| While these critics still on they knees and still suckin' off GOAT’s
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| My shit’s grimey, not accustomed to soap, might even seel a customer soul
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| Or throw these shells thump in his coat
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| Spend my budget up, like 'fuck it, I’m broke'
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| You like them dudes on VH1, you lose trying fuck with New York
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| Look, this what the game bout, I’m from where niggas
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| Don’t come around with the chains, I hangs out
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| With them ghetto women that bang out, do hair sell
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| Dope and babysit out the same house, you caved out
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| I do my thang, it’s Wu-Tang, still in the game
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| My niggas still in the bathroom, stealing your chains
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| Look, it’s M-E-F and Ice H20
|
| Combination to the safe, it ain’t safe no more, bitch
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| Yo, they say 'love don’t cost a thing' like J. Lo
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| But that change when they asking for things and I say no
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| I make dough, so you know I play with my bread
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| I trick chicks to lick dick, for trying to braid my head
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| I ain’t rich but I’m making my spreads, so bitch dig this
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| Consider it a privalege to lay in my bed
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| I’m a don, I don’t pay 'em for head
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| I don’t even pay attention they mention I can pay for the rent
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| All they get is violated instead, I be making them beg
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| Get on your knees, say please, before I say to this dead
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| I’m a G, I see cake on the reg
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| And they don’t ever a see a slice, just a pipe that I’m laying instead |