| They say
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| I like my bitches by the toast
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| I pay three hundred for the fame
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| And now my niggas gonna show
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| We don’t play that (bodies on top of bodies)
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| (Bodies on top of bodies) We don’t play that
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| (Bodies on top of bodies, bodies on top of bodies)
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| We don’t play that (all I see is blood and murder)
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| (And bodies on top of bodies) We don’t play that
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| (All I see is blood and murder, and bodies on top of bodies)
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| We don’t play that
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| Maseratis on Maseratis
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| Morazi’s and more Moradies
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| Hotties on top of hotties
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| That’s a body on top of body
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| I ran shotty and I gotta shotty
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| Got ladders on top of ladders
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| Keep the cat on top of bladder
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| And I drop it bad where it doesn’t matter, nigga
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| Wearing cappa now matching robbers
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| To play, imma catch a body
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| I pull up, I drive up, the choppers
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| They pouncing, the kilos, don’t tell nobody
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| Put a beam on a fucking shotty
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| That coke we sell in Mali
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| I need a lot of money, don’t play with that bag
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| Cause tomorrow I go see Pappy
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| For the two five, hit him with the tek shot
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| Run down when I’m trying to get the best shot
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| For them Benz I hit him with the hay shot
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| We’d a made a hundred Benz at the next spot
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| If you put it on the script, make sure the bread coming back
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| The chemical nigga, dump the lead off the strap
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| Just got word that the feds coming back
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| Imma hold them with some dose and drugs in the back
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| I’m all in the biz with my feeder
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| Running my fingers through a C-cup
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| Sipping my drink out a tea cup
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| You bitch won’t fuck with a G huh?
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| Nigga I show you, probably got a half of the ton
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| Let a nigga get none, same color
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| Seek some, hope another trap in town
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| Let a young nigga get none
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| I put bodies on bodies
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| Seeing shooters on shooters
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| I put hitters on hitters, and killers that kill us
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| We load up them choppas
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| Then we hop on like ninjas that never surrender
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| No pris for reason, that three how he handle his business
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| I never look slapping, I’m leaving no winners
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| I bow with the oak on the ginny
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| Bodies on top of bodies
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| Shoot up them motherrati
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| [?[ on barrel like old Jorabi
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| When I’m on the block, I feel like Shaqueil
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| You flexing on Twitter that beef ain’t for real
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| I’m still in the hood, and I’m keeping it real
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| I don’t know what you want
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| But I’m showing it kill |