| Mmm
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| Mmm-mmm
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| Yeah, fuck it, let me pop my shit one time
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| Nobody got hit, spin the block again (Yeah, yeah)
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| I done been too solid, something got to give (Yeah, yeah)
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| Rockin' real diamonds before I got the deal
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| Through the grace of God, we got away, so now we gotta chill
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| They thought it was rap cap and I told 'em that I got a mil'
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| You can get whatever if you ask me, you ain’t gotta steal
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| My lil' woadie said he fightin' demons, feel like he gotta kill
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| And I just left the hood to catch a vibe and that shit give me chills
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| One hand on my steering wheel, other arm to work the blicky
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| I’ma be forever gang but smart enough to keep my distance
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| Product of the real trenches, that’s why I wear a trench coat
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| Damn near fucked my life gamblin', bet it all on
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| ten-to-four
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| Rap get slow, I’m sellin' loads, can’t get caught with no skinny ho
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| Can’t get caught with no ho at all, bitch, don’t slam my door that hard
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| I pull up like, «Oh my Lawd,» she gon' shop, she hold my card
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| Glock four-fifth my bodyguard,
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| I sip syrup, no noddin' off
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| If you know you owe me, better come and pay me, better not be a dollar short
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| I done took the game, put it in a lock, I ain’t even try
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| Lookin' like a lick, tryna play slick, nigga, you’ll die
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| Comin' from the bricks, I ain’t had shit, now the new Coupe 125
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| Yeah |