| You talking about finessement
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| Are you dizzy blud?
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| Man run up with a whole lotta gang shit (Motherfucker)
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| What are you smoking, Flaca?
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| Yes I finesse and I cut on my set
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| While you flex in a vest
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| Randomly go for the head
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| Have your thoughts on your creps
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| Guy Fawkes a pagan or fed
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| Don’t force it, it’s meanta mental, no meds
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| Head’s in a mess, dreadful but I’m blessed
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| Special with the pen, since young
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| 'Cause he was Deadpool with the skeng
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| Mask off, man could’ve had no future for the ends, that’s fucked
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| Born in '96 with no luck
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| Nuff L’s but man had love
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| Shout mum, still got sauce and drugs on scales
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| Feds are still in the ends like
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| Sauce got, go hunting trunks, no cell
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| Chop down trees in chunks
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| get punched
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| Bae can’t breathe, I go deep with trunk
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| Pum pum get tumped
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| Now she’s slumped, oh well
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| Back to the block in my 97's, you’ll get bumped
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| I’m nuts on a load of stuff
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| When they arrive in heaven, I’ll
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| These niggas are so jel, you’re behind
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| I’ll go blind in prison, my mind’s in jail, uh
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| There’s no need to holler
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| Please don’t even bother
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| At the rate that I’m going, I won’t see tomorrow
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| All I wanna do is make it through today
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| No playing safe, by any means I’ll finesse the game
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| Finesse, finesse
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| All we do is finesse
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| Finesse, finesse
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| All we do is finesse
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| Born into the stress
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| Tryna find my strength
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| Sometimes it’s tense
|
| But I live life on the edge
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| Finesse, finesse
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| All we do is finesse
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| Finesse, finesse
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| All we do is finesse
|
| Born into the stress
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| Tryna find my strength
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| Sometimes it’s tense
|
| But I live life on the edge
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| Live life on the edge
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| Feds wanna slip slide on the ends
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| Cous' said leave your flick-knife in the house
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| Don’t wanna go out on a prison bed
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| Tryna get P’s in big amounts
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| 'Cause I really hate having to make it stretch
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| Wanna go from flipping Z’s to a million plus in a business account,
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| so I’ve gotta make it count
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| You might not like me, you can’t say I ain’t the realest
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| I tell mum I’m gonna get her out of the hood, trust me I mean it
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| I dug-dug-dug, no sleep and my head’s gone, they get bananas
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| She’s way too appealing then it’s back to her kitchen, have the leaners leaning
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| Can’t believe what I’m feeling, got me dreaming
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| 7Up, I put lean in
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| So much fear, my heart’s bleeding
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| No surprise he ain’t sleeping
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| On the grind so I’m eating
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| On the block in my 97's, I’m really tryna get P’s in
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| There’s no need to holler
|
| Please don’t even bother
|
| At the rate that I’m going, I won’t see tomorrow
|
| All I wanna do is make it through today
|
| No playing safe, by any means I’ll finesse the game
|
| Finesse, finesse
|
| All we do is finesse
|
| Finesse, finesse
|
| All we do is finesse
|
| Born into the stress
|
| Tryna find my strength
|
| Sometimes it’s tense
|
| But I live life on the edge
|
| Finesse, finesse
|
| All we do is finesse
|
| Finesse, finesse
|
| All we do is finesse
|
| Born into the stress
|
| Tryna find my strength
|
| Sometimes it’s tense
|
| But I live life on the edge
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| Flaca! |