| What of the dollar you murdered for
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| Is that the one fighting for your soul
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| Or your brother’s the one that you’re running from
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| But if you got money, fuck it, because I want some
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| Ain’t nobody f*ckin'with my Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique
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| Ain’t nobody fresher than my muthaf*ckin'
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| Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique
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| As I look around, they don’t do it like my Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique
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| And all these bad bitches, man, they want the
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| They want the, they want the
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| I tell a bad bitch do whatever I say
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| My block behind me like I’m coming out the driveway
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| It’s grande, from Friday, to next Friday
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| I been up straight for nine days, I need a spa day
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| She tryna get me that poo tang
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| I might let my crew bang
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| My crew deeper than Wu Tang
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| I’m rolling with (Huh) f*ck I’m saying?
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| Girl, you know my crew name
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| You know 2 Chainz? |
| Scrrr!
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| I’m pullin’up in that Bruce Wanye
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| But I’m the f*ckin'villian, man, they kneelin when I walkin in the building
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| Freaky women I be feelin’from the bank accounts I’m fillin'
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| What a feeling, ah man, they gotta be Young player from the D that’s killin’everything that he see
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| Ain’t nobody f*ckin'with my Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique
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| Ain’t nobody fresher than my muthaf*ckin'
|
| Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique
|
| As I look around, they don’t do it like my Clique, clique, clique, clique, clique
|
| And all these bad bitches, man, they want the
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| They want the, they want the
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| Yeah am talking Ye', yeah am talking Rih', yeah I’m talking Bey,
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| nigga I’m talking me Yeah I’m talking bossy, I ain’t talking Kelis
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| You’re money too short, you can’t be talking to me Yeah I’m talking LeBron, we balling our family tree
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| G.O.O.D Music drug dealing drug cousin, ain’t nothing f*ckin'with we Turn that 62 to 125, 125, to a 250, 250 to a half a milli, ain’t nothin’nobody
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| can do with me Now who with me? |
| ¡Vámonos! |
| Call me Hov or jefe
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| Translation, I’m the shit. |
| Least that what my neck say, least that what my check say
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| Lost my homie for a decade, nigga down for like 12 years, ain’t hug his son
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| since the second grade
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| He never told, who we gonna tell, we top of the totem pole
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| It’s the dream team meets the supreme team, and all our eyes green and only
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| means one thing
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| You ain’t f*ckin'with my clique
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| Break records of Louie
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| Ate breakfast at Gucci
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| My girl a superstar all from a home movie
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| Bow on our arrival the unamerican idols
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| When niggas did in Paris got em hanging off the Eiffel
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| Yeah I’m talking business
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| We talking CIA
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| I’m talking George Tenet
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| I seen him the other day
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| He asked me about my Maybach
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| Think he had the same
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| Except mine tinted and his might have been rented
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| You know white people get money don’t spend it Or maybe they get money, buy a business
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| I rather buy 80 gold chains and go ig’nant
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| I know Spike Lee gon kill me but let me finish
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| Blame it on the pigment, we living no limits
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| Them gold master p ceilings was just a figment
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| Of our imagination, MTV cribs
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| Now I’m looking at a crib right next to where TC lives
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| That’s Tom Cruise, whatever she accuse
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| He wasn’t really drunk he just had a few brews
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| Pass the refreshment a cool cool beverage
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| Everything I do need a news crew present
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| Steve-O swerve homie, watch out for the waves
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| I’m way too black to burn from sunrays
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| So I just meditated the home in Pompay
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| About how I could build a new Rome in one day
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| Every time I’m in Vegas they screaming like he’s Elvis
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| But I just wanna design hotels and nail it Shit is real got me feelin’Isrealian
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| Like Bar Refaeli Gisele, no thats Brazilian
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| Went through deep depression when my momma passed
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| Suicide what kind of talk is that
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| But I’ve been talking to God for so long
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| That I have you look in my life I guess he talking back
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| F*ckin'with my clique |