| The wheels on my truck, go round and round
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| I’m sitting 24 inches, off of the ground
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| How that sound, mama said do what you’d like
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| Hold it rocking flights, red, white and blue stripes
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| But hold up, down South still on nonstop
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| Cause we been representing down here, for a while
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| With no solo album, I was still amazing
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| Stayed full of them trees, I was purple hazing
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| Look at me now, Redd ain’t playing around
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| Two skinny, but my stacks keep weighing me down
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| They say balling is a habit no, I can’t help it
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| Now I got more green, than a Boston Celtic
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| So I’m going all out, on a money route
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| Now I think these niggas, really know what I’m about
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| I don’t know where you been, I don’t know where you from
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| But around these parts, we get it how it come
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| See I’m a flosser, balling like you see it
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| Recognize me as a balla, legend in the streets
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| Best believe I did it all but, that will never stop me
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| From feeling like a flosser, cause I’m a balla
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| I’m still in the game, y’all catch my drift
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| I got that work cheap dog, peep my flip
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| When I hop out the truck, y’all catch my drift
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| The rolly’s so icy, bitch get off my dick
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| We ride the finest cars, you know we stay stunting
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| Rims so big on the six, they sit funny
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| If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, blunt it and blist it
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| In a all blue something, with the plates unlisted
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| Like Nike, keeping you bitch niggas in check
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| Yeah whodi you know me, they boy is back
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| With two bricks, two chicks and two platinum Macks
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| I stay grinding, so you know I stay shining
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| See I’m like a value meal, my doe supersized
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| Copping a brand new Bentley, Coupe to ride
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| With mo' cake than a bakery, we got cream
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| Candy truck radio up, like Raheim
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| 7−1-3 nigga, that’s the name of my team
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| We still get full of that syrup, and gangsta lean
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| I still be ghetto fab, if I drove a yellow cab
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| Yung Redd enough said, my niggas got cash
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| Don’t get it twisted up, my wrist lit up
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| You gotta show me something, for me to get up
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| Just call me a rough neck, but I cash enough checks
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| To put me in a Vet, and roll off with a set
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| The streets give me respect, for everything that I did
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| As a kid I always kept a strap, close to my ribs
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| But I don’t know where you been, and I don’t know where you from
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| But around these parts, we get it how it come |