| Fred, know how we all cake — brick of raw weight
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| Picture me gettin' rich, not using poor traits
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| I orchestrate to pay bills
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| I can shoot a jump shot with a bag of money, Jae Millz
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| What up, sir? |
| Got the bright tan fur
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| On the phone with the left hand while the right hand stir
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| Think about all the money we run through
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| Won’t stop 'til my niggas get 150 a bundle
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| I’m on the block, holler — top dollar
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| I’m talkin' G money, like Nino with the Rottweiler
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| Blackjack at the casino with some guap fallin'
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| Sit back just like in the back of that Impala
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| TV and block work, I’m on it, what?
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| Fred hot out here, now I’m warming up
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| Millz hit my phone and said he got a beat
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| Well bring a fork and a plate, nigga, I gotta eat
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| Crusin' in my jeep
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| Thinkin' of a master plan, why these niggas sleep?
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| And while these niggas sleep, I’m out here in these streets
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| Chasin' dead presidents 'cause a nigga gotta eat…
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| Yeah nigga, I gotta eat
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| No food on the table, then the fam' can’t sleep
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| I pray to God I don’t kill a nigga
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| But if I do, God’ll be with it, nigga
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| Only time can tell how the clock tick
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| Cold-ass Coupe, R&B hot chick
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| Three personalities, call me tri-polar
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| Heard my enemy got cancer — good, he’ll die slower
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| I’m thinkin' death — 'cause life seems scary
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| Just pass the gravy, on his whole 'hood, Hail Mary
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| I ain’t chillin'…
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| 'Til the mansion four floors, all the walls got awards
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| And my team ain’t gotta work
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| Niggas say my time is comin', it’d better hurry
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| 'Cause millions I’m tryna bury before I’m buried
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| My chick early twenties but she think like she 30
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| Yeah, she roll with me, so I gotta make her closet ferry
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| That 850, I got a nigga savin' his chips
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| 'Cause right along with that I need the four-door 6
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| Grand Coupin', translucent roofin'
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| That’s why my grind’s stupid, stupid…
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| Yes — I ain’t ask to be boss, but I appear to
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| Teks under the seat, keep checkin' the rearview
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| Never duck when it’s beef, bread, I give a clear view
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| Feel who in the streets? |
| Come try me, I dare you
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| Damn kids don’t understand, live
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| Just know to die or ride for who their fam' is
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| After the dark, Allah, scram in my man’s crib
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| Word is, niggas ain’t rob him, but his man did (damn shame)
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| We keep that in the circle
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| Three stacks for the purple, you need that if it’s work, dude
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| See? |
| Always pullin' on these two straps like Urkel
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| Move back, I’ll hurt you — shoot back and merk you
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| I call it extortin', y’all call it payin' dues
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| Like I’m dolo at a table with a plate of food
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| Up North is dead 'til it’s read in the Daily News
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| Player’s Ball, I play the wall in my gator shoes |