| Why, why, why
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| Why, why, why
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| Why, why
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| Cash Money, rich niggas
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| Look
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| Loud pipes, big rims
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| Nigga, that’s my life
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| When I pull up at the club sorry that’s my night
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| I know a lot of haters probably sayin' that that’s not right
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| Well, my diamonds so much bigger
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| So, that’s my life
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| Bling Bling
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| Now, I only carry big faces and you hear the ching, ching
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| Now, you can ask your wife and she will say the same thin'
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| And your children be amazed when they see me on the big screen
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| Ha, ha, ha
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| I crack myself up
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| I know I talk lot but I can back myself up
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| Got a little house on the beach that’s where I shack myself up
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| You ain’t really got more money than me
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| Think about it
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| Let’s just say somebody gave me a check and took the ink up out it
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| So I just bought a new Rollie and got to take a link up out it
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| And me with no ice is like a Prince concert that ain’t crowded
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| They see the Beam, and the truck, and the B-12
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| And we was next
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| Then that’s when I pull up in the B-E-L
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| Le-Le-Lex
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| Ha
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| I’m on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| We on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| Juvenile used to be R-T-A bound
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| Now I be bustin' these bitches head when I come 'round
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| Acting like a nigga that ain’t never had shit
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| Look into my bed sayin' that’s a mad hit
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| I’ll damned if these diamonds and golds ain’t shinin'
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| My Rollie ain’t windin' my bank ain’t climbin'
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| You lookin' at a multi-millionaire in the flesh
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| Might don’t have it now, but I just got me a check
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| I can walk it like I talk it, play it how I say it
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| Teach it like I preach it; |
| now, put that in your head
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| Nigga, bet a thousand, shoot a thousand — ain’t nuttin'
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| Smoke a pound, pop the Cristal and drink somethin'
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| Meet me in the casino, way in the back
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| Losin' money like a motherfucker, still shootin' craps
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| Tomorrow I’ll be back, I got millionaire status
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| We make so much money IRS be lookin' at us
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| I’m on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| We on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| I got more ends than Bunny have in a factory
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| I’m Lil Turk, I’m livin' large, got the baddest hoes after me
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| Picture me, a young nigga ballin' out of control
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| Playing with millions, laying in condos
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| Nigga I shine, shine through the fuckin' week
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| The fliest ride with Cristal in the passenger seat
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| Don’t hate me, cause I’m a little baller
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| Got more weight than Angola
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| Fucking your girl Carla
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| Nigga I stunt
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| And I’ma a stunt til I can’t no more
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| Chest lit up like the oaks
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| From the diamonds I sport
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| Yo, I can’t be touched
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| Don’t think I’m too much, nigga I’m rich what the fuck
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| Rolex crushed out with the bezel
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| And in order for hoes to get close to me got to be on my schedule
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| I got so much money
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| I don’t know what to do
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| Buy isles and cars
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| And break bread with my crew
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| I’m on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| We on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| We on fire
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| Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
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| Uh, uh, uh
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| Hear me
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| It’s like, monkey see, monkey do
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| Rollin' with the Cash Money runners I stay true
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| Cause when were runnin' and climbin' on the million-dollar scene
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| Holding together, know what I mean, know what I mean
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| When I bring out the rubber around the Hummer
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| Don’t nobody have a Benz or the Lex Bubble
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| When I start they said I had no fame
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| Now all the girls just end up calling my name
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| Ten G’s to ???
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| Fax the contract to big Cash Money
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| Cause you know this whole clique right with me
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| They’re right with me
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| Sip-pe-di-dy
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| Won’t count the diamonds just around my neck
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| X amount of dollars on a bankroll check
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| If you want to really come and sing with me
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| Those that got me wicked, then I do some free
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| For free |