| Fu got the weed, Marl got the gun
|
| They say numbers don’t lie
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| Bitch, I’m not the one
|
| Hammers in ya face, this is not a dream
|
| And you get in every page in this magazine
|
| Bumping UGK, talking about a murder
|
| We roll a Dr. Jay and then we light that Julius Erving
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| I got pussy on the way and pussy on the way out
|
| Life is a beach and these hoes trying to lay out
|
| Tunechi, Tunechi, tote the tooly
|
| Fuck around and pop ya
|
| My homies got that white girl
|
| Call it Lady Gaga
|
| Glock for Tini, nina colada
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| Suck, swallow, semen, saliva
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| I’m going at your collar
|
| Fuck you hoe niggas!
|
| Weezy go hard, you bitches go figure
|
| Diamonds in my teeth like I’m a fucking dope dealer
|
| You’re a dead man walking: Michael Jackson Thriller
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| I’m in one big room, full of bad bitches.
|
| (I'm in one big room, full of bad bitches)
|
| It goes: Tunechi, Tunechi
|
| tote the tooly, fuck around and pop ya
|
| My homies got that white girl
|
| Call it Lady Gaga
|
| It goes: Tunechi, Tunechi
|
| tote the tooly, fuck around and pop ya
|
| Back where I started on my set, in black
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| All chrome Glock looking like a platinum plaque
|
| We don’t pack extra clips, we pack extra Gats
|
| And all my hoes dirty like welcome mats
|
| Til the wheels fall off: I can fix a flat
|
| If you’re scared go to church and get a scripture tat
|
| Guns the size of children, now don’t be childish
|
| Be with wild-ass niggas and I am the wildest.
|
| I’m a motherfucker, call me Weezy baby
|
| And on the end of the barrel I got a sweet potato
|
| My life is a movie, I got a leading lady
|
| My rooftop drop back like Tom Brady
|
| I got the world in my hands, skateboard n' my vans
|
| And all my boys stay strapped like we live in Iran
|
| I know what I can do, so bitch I do what I can
|
| Drop that Sorry 4 the Wait, man
|
| I’m just saying.
|
| I’m in one big room, full of bad bitches. |