| Mike WiLL Made-It!
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| Ear Drummers
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I can’t trust these bitches
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| Haters praying for my downfall, at least they’re religious
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| People in Hell, they want rainfall, your bitch just want these digits
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| I feel like I’m on her payroll how she pay my ass a visit
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| We put both iPhones on silent, both iPhones on silent
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| I only answer for my niggas, careful with that dialogue
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| Man, my house ain’t got no house phone
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| My flip phone is a chip phone
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| Got a prepaid and that bitch on, but still, I use my bitch phone
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| 'Cause I can’t trust my iPhone, I can’t trust my SIM card
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| I got Siri talkin' dirty to me, tryna make my dick hard
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| I got Tunechi on my rington, my children on my home screen
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| I choke you with th phone charger
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| Sold more crack than my phone screen, let’s go
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| Fur floor mats, I’m bare feet, nigga
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| 100K a week, that’s a bad week, nigga
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| I can sell dogs to a cat freak, nigga
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| Sell monkey bars to a chimpanzee, nigga
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| But you never know what you never know
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| Nigga sell you coke and it wasn’t coke
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| Hang 'em off the building and let 'em go
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| That’s how you make a statement that they should quote
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| I seen death around the corner
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| And I lived right by the corner store
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| I’m a hot boy, I’ll burn your hand
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| I’m a real life Untouchable
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| I run the show, I run the show
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| Sell anything but my soul
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| And I’m prayin' that the only cuffs
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| That touch my wrist come with button holes, for real
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| Smokin' on the good
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| Killin' these hoes like Blair Underwood
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| Rest in peace to my daddy Rabbit, I swear to his lucky foot
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| Ever since he died of jealousy, I’ve been looking for a cure
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| You see, my daddy had that work, now they watch his son get to it
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| And just like he ran them streets, I run with bulls
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| If niggas buyin' I throw out some numbers to 'em
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| Numbers soundin' yummy to 'em
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| You need more, just call my ho, I gave her phone number to 'em
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| 'Cause you know
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
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| Pull up in that thing with Stunna, paint it period red
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| Go tell your boss we can get 'em cheaper than where he paid
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| Let’s go
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| I can’t trust my iPhone (Nope), .44 on my thighbone (Huh)
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| You can have the eye of the tiger
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| I’m the one the tiger better have his eye on, okay
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| Fussin' with my redbone (Bitch), hang up when my high gone (Why)
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| Ball 'til I fall, and when I do, them hoes gon' pile on, uh
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| Assault rifle, now mouth off
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| Some niggas make it all the way to the top and ball too hard then bounce off
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| Like my homeboy, let his bitch cook the work and it came out wrong
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| Almost beat that ho to death, I had to call my plug and vouch for him
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| 'Cause I ain’t even got an ounce for 'em
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| I keep running out on 'em
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| Everybody gotta eat, just try not to leave the mouse crumbs
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| .223 right here, this to keep the whole house warm
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| Then I skate by one of my hoes house, girl, I gotta use your house phone
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| 'Cause she know I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
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| I can’t trust that Samsung, I think Sam the feds
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| Cocaine, pour the twenty-eight gram buffet
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| Turn your block into a police ambulance parade, let’s go
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds (Woo)
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| Pull up in that thing with Stunna (Yeah), interior red (Tell 'em)
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| Go tell your boss we can get 'em cheaper than where he paid, let’s go,
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| yeah (2 Chainz, boom, boom, boom)
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| Hello? |
| (Hello?)
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| Most of my niggas from the ghetto (Ghetto)
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| Through the concrete grew a rose (Grew a rose)
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| Petals smellin' like gun metal (Bah)
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| Smoke a joint the size of a limo (Yeah)
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| My girlfriend wearin' stilettos (Yeah)
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| My wife don’t like when I call my girlfriend my girlfriend
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| She think she’s special (Tru)
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| I whippin' and flippin' the extras (Woo, extra)
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| Fucked that bitch off a text message (Damn)
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| You know what it is when you fuck with the kid
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| I got medicine all in my beverage (Lean)
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| Look at your watch, it say my time (My time)
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| They callin' my phone like a hotline (Hotline)
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| I’m about to switch this shit up (Shit up)
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| Got a metro for my thot line (Woo)
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| Got to crip walk on the outside (Yeah)
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| Whip the same color apartheid (Yeah)
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| On the phone kickin', pimpin'
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| You know I surround that bitch out like a chalk line
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| Ooh, Siri backwards spell Iris
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| I ring, iPhone don’t work on this island (True)
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| AK smilin' as I pose for a threat
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| All these bad hoes in here, we need a pole in this bitch
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| If they’re quick to pick her up, I cut that bitch like a machete
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| I might overdose on shrimp scampi in Italy, I’m like
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
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| Pull up in that thing with Stunna, interior red
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| Go tell your boss we can get 'em cheaper than where he paid, let’s go, yeah
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
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| I can’t trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds |