| I used to smoke to get high, now I smoke to get vibes
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| I used to tote the semi, I still tote the semi
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| I used to walk a thin line, now I’m walking chin high
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| I used to fuck and get tired, now I fuck her ten times
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| She used to make me dick rise, now she make me ribeyes
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| She used to make me six-nine, now she make her friend try
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| She used to make me love her, now she make me realize
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| It’s money over bitches 'till the day I dizz-ie
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| Keep it on the East Side, keep it on the B-side
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| I feel like Ivan Drago, if he dies, he dies
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| Find out where he reside and find out where he hide
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| Run up in that bitch like, «Hey,» pop-pop-pop, peace sign
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| Percocet, promethazine, you can call me P-Rod
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| Taking shots at my team, you must be getting senile
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| You goin' at my slime then you’re going at me, slime
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| Your blood all over the scene, it look like red cheap wine
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| I’m smoking on a key lime, you look like tea time
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| Look like honey to my beehive, I close your sweet eyes
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| Shoot ya in ya head, give ya ass three eyes
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| And you still ain’t seen a fucking thing until you C5
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| I remember you, I was never into you
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| I tell my shooters, shoot you and whoever resemble you
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| And every member who had been a friend of you or kin to you
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| They in it too, and bitches too, they mention you, they dentures loose
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| Run up in a nigga house, pistol in that nigga mouth
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| Safe code now nigga, cough it up or spit it out
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| Oh my God I’m flipping out, flipping out then dipping out
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| I tried to turn the fuckin' page, oh my God, I ripped it out
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| I used to smoke to get high, now I smoke to get vibes
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| I used to tote the semi, I still tote the semi
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| Keep it on the East Side, keep it on the B-side
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| I feel like Ivan Drago, lil bitch, and if he dies, he dies
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| If he dies, he dies
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| If he dies, he dies
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| If he dies, he dies
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| Yeah, run up in that nigga house, pistol in that nigga mouth
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| But he be talking out his ass, what is all that shit about?
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| I used to know you niggas, I don’t know you niggas
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| I just ignore you niggas, I don’t bro you niggas
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| With my bros will smoke you niggas, like we grow you niggas
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| Kill your ho too nigga, and your go-to niggas
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| I’ve been riding 'round the city with the safety off
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| Glock nine and it’s pretty like a baby doll
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| You niggas bitches and it’s pissing all the ladies off
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| My finger sitting on the trigger like a La-Z-Boy
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| If there was beef, I’m in the kitchen with the apron on
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| Put his words on the plate, that nigga ate 'em all
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| And I ain’t wit' the talking, but damn now he talking
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| Nigga spilled the beans, damn, now it’s coffee
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| Looking for your pussy ass like I got a warrant
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| I throw on the ski mask, that’s a private party
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| Bullets jumping off your ass like they shock absorbant
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| Rock your bells, LL, nigga locked and loaded
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| I used to smoke to get high now I smoke to get vibes
 | 
| I used to tote the semi, I still tote the semi
 | 
| Keep it on the East Side, keep it on the beast side
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| I feel like Ivan Drago lil bitch, and if he dies, he dies
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| If he dies, he dies
 | 
| If he dies, he dies
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| If he dies, he dies
 | 
| Yeah run up in that nigga house, pistol in that nigga mouth
 | 
| But he be talking out his ass, what is all that shit about?
 | 
| I used to smoke to get high, now I smoke to get vibes
 | 
| Used to tote the semi, I still tote the semi
 | 
| Keep it on the East Side, keep it on the B-side
 | 
| I feel like Ivan Drago lil bitch, and if he dies, he dies
 | 
| If he dies, he dies
 | 
| If he dies, he dies
 | 
| If he dies, he dies
 | 
| Yeah, run up in that nigga house, pistol in that nigga mouth
 | 
| But he be talking out his ass, what is all that shit about?
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| Mulah, baby
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| And you still ain’t seen a fucking thing until you C5
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| I still don’t know today
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| Was he playing with the gun or was it an accident
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| I still… I just don’t… I… I be wanting to ask him but I never asked him
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| after all these years
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| Was that a accident or did he… or was he playing with the gun
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| So I never really found out about what…
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| You know what happ-… what really happened with him and that shooting |