| Hahaha
|
| Ahh
|
| Ahhh
|
| Grown nigga, you see the pole glisten
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| I’m from that hole with it
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| I know niggas and you ain’t roll with us
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| You never sold missiles
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| But we was out here workin' while you niggas out here watchin'
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| Told her I’ma surgeon, now yo' bitch is out here stalking
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| Aye huh
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| I know the feds listen
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| I think the meds kickin' in
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| He want smoke and now yo' man missin'
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| It’s been with bands picking up
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| All them bricks and all them grams in it
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| They in my hands chilling and I still feel like I’m the damn realest
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| I know that you know that, he know that, we know I’ma doctor
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| I’m Tim like Tebo or Debo, bitch, money made a monster
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| Show you 'bout this automatic weapon we call «choppa»
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| It take a half a minute, within seconds you get mopped up
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| It’s surgery, been used to burglary
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| I know you heard of me, this perjury
|
| Too hot like mercury, this ain’t no nursery
|
| Got bad bitches shaking ass with racks up on the table
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| Mad niggas actin' like they lit, but get disabled
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| Fuck rap, we don’t do gimmick, not no fable
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| Love taps, they ain’t even killin' shit, we stable
|
| I run maps, you was playin' games and watchin' cable, uh
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| How you switch up on your brother? |
| Cane and Able, uh
|
| I been hustlin' for good, I’m out here grateful, uh
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| Boy, don’t make me put it in ya shawty nasal, uh
|
| I know the feds listen
|
| I think the meds kickin' in
|
| He want smoke and now yo' man missin'
|
| It’s been with bands picking up
|
| All them bricks and all them grams in it
|
| They in my hands chilling and I still feel like I’m the damn realest, uh
|
| Ayy, 'cause nigga she call me her doctor
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| Drive a blue Benz with the top up, a monster
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| You was acting thuggin' 'til I popped up, who shot ya?
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| Mind ya business and live it 'fore my nigga drop ya
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| I been chillin' and smokin', livin' like a Rasta
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| You is an imposter
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| Ahh
|
| Ahh
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| Ahh
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| She know, nigga, I’ma doctor |