| Pardon the body, wide body switchin' lanes
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| Difference, me and you are not the same
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| Keep goin', steady duckin' methods
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| Bitch niggas steady throwin' at me
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| Swim through it, goin' for the cheddar
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| Big dog runnin' through the letters
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| Now I got young niggas slangin' K’s, no mistake, and they know better
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| Now I got some sons I done raised, white t-shirts, rockin' J’s
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| Trap house through a brick a day, I meant to say they be servin' J’s
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| Probably do a nine day in rocks, clear tech tickin', that’s a watch
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| Got that out the work, a cell block
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| Closed cell restrictions, C-C-R
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| Still callin' shots on the yard, I don’t need a rod, I am the rod
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| Believe in God, not a bodyguard
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| Tatted bad, bought a lotta scars
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| Cold heart got my body hard
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| Mills in the lab when I record
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| M’s on the table, got employed
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| Drop somethin', perfect timin' for it
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| To hide my scars from the next life, most likely why I dress nice
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| You tell me you just burned somethin', I probably tell you, 'that's nice'
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| Maneuver through the trenches, foreign vehicle headlights
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| Scalp be itchin' when thinkin', many might believe it’s head lice
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| Jump out, don’t get star-struck, clique out, clip wit’cho car up
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| Big Gates just gave an order while sippin' coffee at Starbucks
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| Vacuum-seal it all up, resin resembles sawdust
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| I’m him, got many nicknames, they don’t know what to call us
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| Transform, speak less, yeah
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| Big drugs, we that, yeah
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| I bought a loft to chill, she couldn’t stay 'cause her pussy was ill
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| Hit from the back, throw it back, I’m like, 'eeh!'
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| Pull her hair, wrap it up in my wrist
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| Get wit' me, got some money to get
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| Private driver keep the wheel in the road
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| X-ray machine trippin' the load
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| Magnetics, speed thermometer slow
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| Out in Illinois grabbin' 'em whole
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| On the block, caught a trick for a pole
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| On your lap, I could hit you wit' dough
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| On your cap, you get hit for a O
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| Big bread, holdin' shop in the snow
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| In the back, catchin' that at the store
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| Send money to my niggas for soap
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| On land, I’m a blessin' with clothes
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| Pray to God business never exposed
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| Everybody livin' under the code
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| Real player, I ain’t tryna get chose
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| Many call, few only get those
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| Lil' raw tryna soak in your nose
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| Mugged up, kinda show 'em my goals
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| To hide my scars from the next life, most likely why I dress nice
|
| You tell me you just burned somethin', I probably tell you, 'that's nice'
|
| Maneuver through the trenches, foreign vehicle headlights
|
| Scalp be itchin' when thinkin', many might believe it’s head lice
|
| Jump out, don’t get star-struck, clique out, clip wit’cho car up
|
| Big Gates just gave an order while sippin' coffee at Starbucks
|
| Vacuum-seal it all up, resin resembles sawdust
|
| I’m him, got many nicknames, they don’t know what to call us |