| It’s done
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| Yung Lan on the track
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| Diamonds on glisten, I shine for the summer
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| (It's done)
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| Gold in my grill like I’m Breadwinner Gunna
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| (It's done)
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| You know, I be tryna find what make me happy but
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| (It's done)
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| I don’t really know what make me happy right now
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| (It's done, it’s done, it’s done)
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| Diamonds on glisten, I shine for the summer
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| Redo her frontal, her body I punish
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| Walk in the street like I’m Gotti, I’m thuggin'
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| He speakin' on gangsta, he’s gotta be buggin'
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| She work at V Live, I supply her with lumber
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| The skirt that I choose, when supplying the jungle
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| Kevin Garnett, they retire my number
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| Got gold in my grill like I’m Breadwinner Gunna
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| Demand in my hand and I’m pushin' the button
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| Big body Benz, I’ma whip like a cutlass
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| Mouth full of diamonds, up under the gutter
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| Ain’t talkin' no scissors, we workin' with cutters
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| Balla and Solo retarded I’m muggin'
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| I punctured your hoe, put that rod on her cousin
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| Fresh out of jail made a brick, go to bumpin'
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| My children gon' eat you ain’t telling me nothin'
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| Trap in the trenches, I’m selling Hermes
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| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
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| Servin' them birds but it used to be bags
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| Flippin' them tickets, it use to be stacks
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| Watches don’t tick, but it use to do that
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| One altercation, we swervin' with' gats
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| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your head
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| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Trap in the trenches I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your cap
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Trap in the trenches I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your cap
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Screech off in a foreign, this here get alarmin'
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| New firearm in the arm of my garments
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| Phone steady jumping my flip get annoying
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| Droppin' the pot but my wrist not performin'
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| Ice on my necklace, my pendant performin'
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| This here cost a fortune, don’t know if you knowin'
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| No one alive, no one alive can do your body like I do
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| Lovin' Chanel like we sponsored by Spalding
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| New rival location, immediate ballin'
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| Pack get the mail outta Cali, she caught it
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| Jump in the Toyota, my truck a Sequoia
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| I’m ridin' no more, takin' extra precaution
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| Get that out the way then get right back to flossin'
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| I did the dash in the «pewm"and you fell in love
|
| My nickname should be «awesome»
|
| Trap in the trenches, I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Servin' them birds but it used to be bags
|
| Flippin' them tickets, it use to be stacks
|
| Watches don’t tick, but it use to do that
|
| One altercation, we swervin' with' gats
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your head
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Trap in the trenches I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your cap
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Trap in the trenches I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your cap
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Stuck up and cocky, can’t help but to stare
|
| She do what I tell her, my word in her hair
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| Penetrating her brain, it’s disturbing her scalp
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| You look back at me when that ass in the air
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| Wigglin' slow when you dancin', it’s sexy
|
| She say she don’t like when I fuck her aggressive
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| Comfort me, helpin' me hold it together
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| Get it in a rut when I deal with depression
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| Trump in the nat when I got in my bag
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| Ended the month with 48 grand
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| Order red wine and put that on my tab
|
| Hoe reached for her phone and I got on her ass
|
| I love my new hoe, I’ma take her to France
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| Hit Amsterdam and go hard on the gas
|
| Booty so big difficult not to grab
|
| Still tryna see how it got in them pants
|
| Trap in the trenches, I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Servin' them birds but it used to be bags
|
| Flippin' them tickets, it use to be stacks
|
| Watches don’t tick, but it use to do that
|
| One altercation, we swervin' with' gats
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your head
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Trap in the trenches I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your cap
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair
|
| Trap in the trenches I’m selling Hermes
|
| H in syringes with zombies, ooh yeah
|
| Hop out where you at, put a curve in your cap
|
| Your bitch do what I tell her, my word in her hair |