| Turn me up, a little louder
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| Get it crunk yeah, let’s get 'em riled up Let’s go! |
| This only for my real niggaz
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| Big truck, fill the lane, fifth wheel with it Stink pink gators, my Detroit players
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| Game like A out of 'toire, these boys hate us We let the morgue-ies tell the whole story
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| Bounce in the Ford and watch ya hoes board it Party up, get live with it Start it up, put it in drive and whip it Move, bitch! |
| Get out the way
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| I’m bouncin I’m all in and out the lanes
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| It’s not the game, fuckin niggaz up Like what tigga-what tigga-what tigga-WHAT~!
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| «The Low End Theory, «all you feel is the bottom
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| You ain’t gotta wait to chop, the Dilla’s got 'em
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| Better get 'em, where you at bro?
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| Say Dilla hang corners in a 'Llac bro
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| Cake boys doin it big, we outta control
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| This one is for the real niggaz out on the roll
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| Let’s go!
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| Get live, reach for the sky
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| For the real niggaz with the beat in the ride
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| You can turn your bass up another notch if you want
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| You hot with’cha bump ba-ba-bump ba-ba-bump, yeah!
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| Makin your money, takin your money
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| Overseas and in the states gettin money
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| D shit beats, the rhymes is dangerous
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| Creep in the streets, come ride we bangin 'em
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| Turn that shit up, let’s make noise
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| Jeep volume nigga, we fat cake boys
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| Dudes do this, choppin lovely
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| Too exclusive for you when we mob in the Jeeps
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| Get it up and, crack-a-lack-in
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| In our trucks mayne, that’s what’s happening
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| Flossin baby we off the chain
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| I love when the sunlight reflects off the blades
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| Damn~! |
| Where you at with it? |
| Let 'em know now
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| Big puff out the truck when you roll down
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| Do it to death, do it to do it Take a whiff, inhale the shit, cause you it Yeah — nigga, we gon'keep on In our Jeeps with the big chrome piece on With the bang and the chain and the piece on Nigga |
| J to the D to the beat keep on |