| Pounds in the trash, Joey Fatts do the dishes
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| W-w-w-w-Wavecap Music
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| Lil Fressh
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| Beeper King
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| Bricks in the stove, posted with the pump
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| Niggas got what you need, so just tell us what you want
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| Choppers leave you niggas slumped, niggas down to ride
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| All my niggas do or die, it’s gon' be a homicide
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| Pounds in the trash, Joey Fatts do the dishes
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| Bad bitch, no clothes, cooking work in the kitchen
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| My brother’s ain’t home cause they on the block pitching
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| Got them birds on the stove, for dinner we eating chickens
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| Niggas trill crippin', purple drank' sipping
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| Shoot you with a pistol, my nigga give you the business
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| Like Tha Dogg Pound a nigga stay with bad bitches
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| Call 'em over, they be straight to the head like Penicillin
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| Got a bitch in the bay, she cook a nigga yay'
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| Base girl bumping Lil B headed to L. A
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| If a coppers in the way, then she load the choppers
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| Helicopters lay you down and you won’t make it to the doctor’s
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| She a bopper, a freak
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| Hear my name all in these streets
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| All these niggas talking 'bout me so I sleep with my pistol up in these sheets
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| Squeeze will leave a pussy nigga dead
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| Trap be stacking bread, staying low from the fed’s
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| Fatts
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| Matched on, hammer time
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| Hammered down, shooting TEC’s
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| Ric Flair, windmill, hammer jam, uh
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| Percy Miller 'bout it, 'bout it
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| Chopper in the camo pants, call that bitch the ambulance
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| Skirrrt, You gon' need it
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| Check the body count when them little homies start creeping
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| Summer slam, dropping clips
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| Chirp phone, chopping bricks
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| Rose gold, O’s froze
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| Watch the wrist, you pussy niggas getting sloppy
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| Got war wounds on my body
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| Plus six shells in my shotty'
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| Catch him slipping and pop him, fuck nigga we’ll sit you down
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| If them birds fly then we’ll flip your town
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| Got a whole train that’ll hit the ground
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| Run it, make that bitch cum, four-hundred
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| Day and night and that cut it
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| With that molly, white and that money, uh
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| Bagging knots on that dresser
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| Sell you work on my? |
| , pussy’s folding under that pressure |