| This one is dedicated from Harlem to all ya’ll
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| This goes out from the streets of Harlem to everywhere
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| Blow ya smoke
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| And if you ride high, puts your lighters up in the air
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| Blow ya smoke
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| I’m blowin smoke with my top back
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| I got my gun on me top that
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| She started pressin buttons I told her stop that
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| Can’t front I was watching where them cops at
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| The sun is out, my wrist rocked out
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| I miss all my niggas locked out
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| So I roll a blunt for the good times
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| We was just in the slums like «Good Times»
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| Keep a bad bitch like Malona
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| Me and Dev was doing henny and coronas
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| Getting money hustle hard they was on us
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| And we still poor liqour for the goners
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| We blow smoke like we blow money
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| It’s no joke but it’s so funny
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| She ate me up and said «it's so yummy»
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| The niggas sho hate but the hoes love me
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| Spend a couple G’s on my bitches purse
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| Lookin at the screen as I hit reverse
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| Lightin up backin out of Neman’s
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| My jewlery loud like it’s screaming
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| And when the last time you seen him?
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| Shootin past, something fast, european
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| Capital B on the gear shifta
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| No breeze from the ceilin let the air hit ya
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| I’m god blessed like a Prayor scripture
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| Lord knows tryna make it up there with ya
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| Until then I light one up
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| Stay strapped in case a nigga wanna run up
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| I’m still watched by rap police
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| They still search me in the club like I’m strapped with heat
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| Might catch me pumpin out in backstreets
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| I might be diggin out yo broad in the backseat… fucker
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| I just wanna smoke trees in a safe place
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| But when I do that I get a court case
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| I get a P.O. |
| who’s an asshole
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| I get bum smokers, always low on doe
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| I get cussed out by my mom and them
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| Changin all the locks, won’t let me in
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| I get cotton mouth, I get a bad rep,
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| I get a book tellin me to take twelve steps
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| Smokin on some refa, gettin on my Wiz khalifa
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| Had my teachers concerned real talk
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| But to preach what I was taught
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| Master your high and learn to skywalk
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| Life too short ain’t got no reset
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| So do what you want, not what they expect
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| And in the meantime Clockin hella checks
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| While you fly real high on them paper jets fool
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| Real dreams come true |