| You can tell I ain’t even try to fit in,
|
| Probably somewhere you can’t even get it,
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| Don’t try, we gonna be here for a minute,
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| Tell ‘em I ain’t living to the late finish,
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| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
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| Loaded, I’m loaded, four shots in and
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| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
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| Loaded, I’m loaded, where should I begin?
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| Gotta find it in a drill, my niggers got it, still
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| Real with the real, my DJ even ill.
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| In column wheel, big from Jowel,
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| Screaming my mind, but ain’t no Johnny ill.
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| Got it any hard, I pop it any set,
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| I wish a nigger would’ve put his life to the test.
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| I made it God’s grace to say I’m turning late,
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| We’re like jaded on my aye, separate make a G.
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| I should go before the sun up, welcome back tutter,
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| Probably fly trotter, fly a litter faller.
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| I’m all about my twat, and there I wanna vet,
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| Stupid say I’m sick, I call it a shack.
|
| You can tell I ain’t even try to fit in,
|
| Probably somewhere you can’t even get it,
|
| Don’t try, we gonna be here for a minute,
|
| Tell ‘em I ain’t living to the late finish,
|
| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
|
| Loaded, I’m loaded, four shots in and
|
| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
|
| Loaded, I’m loaded, where should I begin?
|
| Knocking down your door like Avon,
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| Sign niggers, now we ain’t playing.
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| Ready to go, tell ‘em they don’t have to wait on,
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| See me with the prepare hood, niggers they don’t have to trade on.
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| Your boy fresh in a dope boy hat,
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| With a pitch of perfect bitch, come and get a codac.
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| I don’t need a cosign period cotext,
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| They stop to my house and got a Rolex.
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| You can tell I ain’t even try to fit in,
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| Fuck all the politicians in the city.
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| Later on they gonna say a nigger get in
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| Pocket full of hundreds and I’m feeling like a milli.
|
| You can tell I ain’t even try to fit in,
|
| Probably somewhere you can’t even get it,
|
| Don’t try, we gonna be here for a minute,
|
| Tell ‘em I ain’t living to the late finish,
|
| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
|
| Loaded, I’m loaded, four shots in and
|
| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
|
| Loaded, I’m loaded, where should I begin?
|
| I’m in this black air heesy, straight to Givenchy,
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| Gold chains on racks hanging from my pocket.
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| My whole team’s winning, losing never was an option,
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| That’s why your bitch’s here and leaves with her head popping.
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| I be going in, here we go again, ain’t got to ask no question, though.
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| Bottles from out that roof, sparkle right on my whole section
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| Bitch, you know I am out of marley, probably off a tooth,
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| All black, probably killing scenes where youth.
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| Standing in the line while I’m standing on a sofa,
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| Pussy popping like the paparazzi camera when they saw me.
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| Might not see tomorrow, so tonight I tear the shit closer,
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| Part might feel my boy’s caps and a glass of more Patron.
|
| You can tell I ain’t even try to fit in,
|
| Probably somewhere you can’t even get it,
|
| Don’t try, we gonna be here for a minute,
|
| Tell ‘em I ain’t living to the late finish,
|
| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
|
| Loaded, I’m loaded, four shots in and
|
| I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded, I’m loaded,
|
| Loaded, I’m loaded, where should I begin? |