| Slow mode, slow mode
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| Slow mode, slow mode
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| Uh, riding down, 59, man, I’m thrown with my essay
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| My girl, my girl, my dime, my dime, that be my essay
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| Just got, just got off the flight, the put up to the heights
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| In my essay for some dough, about to get on my flight
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| Gotta' bright and clean, got that straight from Arizona
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| Shit! |
| The drink, the drink, I got that shit from California!
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| Shit! |
| The ride, the ride, oh if you’re trying to get 'em key
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| Catch a shooter, shooter with some stars grind '
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| Yeah susha, get ' a susha
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| I’m saying no punta, my pockets Pumba.
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| And I’m so manish I may never, never hard to try to do my thing
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| When the cars pull up, man, I was slow chocking me an essay!
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| I’m coming down with my essay, down, down with my essay
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| I stole some rhyme with my essay, rhyme, rhyme with my essay
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| I’m riding clean with my essay
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| And everybody know I got them things for my essay
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| And tonight, yeah we gonna ride!
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| I got a whole bunch of killers with me
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| I throw my H town up in the sky
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| Cause ain’t nobody fucking with my homies!
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| I’m with my essay, and we’re getting blown
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| Run around the city getting brain from a bad ho
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| I’m with my essay, and we’re getting blown
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| Run around the city getting brain from a bad ho
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| I’m with my essay, and we’re getting blown
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| Run around the city getting brain from a bad ho
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| I’m with my essay, and we’re getting blown
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| Run around the city getting brain from a bad ho
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| She my essay, my fucking'
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| I fuck her so good, she be like, 'can I get the dick home? |
| '
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| I know, know, gonna gonna play me
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| Picture you with these skinny ass jeans like Patrick Swayze
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| I’m blowing, blowing hazy
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| Yeah, I’m all up in this dazy
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| I’ll be like, 'bitch, fuck me and you gotta pay me! |
| '
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| I don’t give a fuck and I don’t give a damn
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| Be like, bitch, fuck me and you gotta pay!
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| Be like, bitch, fuck me and you gotta pay!
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| Be like, bitch, fuck me and you gotta pay!
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| I don’t give a fuck and I don’t give a damn
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| My essay bitch bitch got the good skin, got a ten
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| But shit! |
| I’m the man! |
| I’m on the fucking mic
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| She gonna ride dirty, Kush don’t pour me out that'.
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| I’m coming down with my essay, down, down with my essay
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| I stole some rhyme with my essay, rhyme, rhyme with my essay
|
| I’m riding clean with my essay
|
| And everybody know I got them things for my essay
|
| And tonight, yeah we gonna ride!
|
| I got a whole bunch of killers with me
|
| I throw my H town up in the sky
|
| Cause ain’t nobody fucking with my homies!
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| Me and my essay speak'
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| See, I told she don’t she she don’t talk shit
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| No, she just let the take play
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| No referees around, you better hope you’re lucky left day
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| And aching ain’t the hope, the hope you’re right
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| Don’t let you left play!
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| Uh, me' reader
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| Me sure to see you
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| Now only do your fuck me, but you cooked the best for heaters, uh
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| And empanadas and quesadillas
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| I’ll beat your pussy like piñatas,
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| Get your ass a visa, uh!
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| That corpus Chris who riding with my dog'
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| That corpus Chris who riding with my dog'
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| I know a girl from' that probably needs a homie
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| That corpus Chris who riding with my dog'
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| I know a girl from' that probably needs a homie
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| And if you’re real, she gonna fuck us at the same time
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| My ' say, don’t fuck, don’t fuck, don’t put me on!
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| I’m coming down with my essay, down, down with my essay
|
| I stole some rhyme with my essay, rhyme, rhyme with my essay
|
| I’m riding clean with my essay
|
| And everybody know I got them things for my essay
|
| And tonight, yeah we gonna ride!
|
| I got a whole bunch of killers with me
|
| I throw my H town up in the sky
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| Cause ain’t nobody fucking with my homies! |