| What I just say?
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| (It's a Wayne beat)
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| Ah, fuck
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| Alright
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| I charge, ah
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| I charge up in this bitch like I’m Goku
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| I don’t need a box for a TV, this a Roku
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| I got these motherfuckers sick like some old food
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| Ah
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| Auntie in the kitchen cookin', smell like soul food
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| I put my whole fuckin' life on Pro Tools
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| Louie said he want all fifties, he don’t want blues
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| Grindin', ain’t ate shit all day, I don’t want food
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| Ah, let me charge up
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| Huah
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| I’ma display in first class, put the cars up
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| This a coffee cup, but it did not come from Starbucks
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| Seen my bitch ridin' with a nigga, shot the car up
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| Told E split the Xanny with me, chop the bar up
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| I don’t say pour lean no more, Wock' the 'Hardt up
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| My son know how to load the gun, he a smart fuck
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| Let him leave with the strap, he shot the park up
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| Before I learn to cut a piece of cake, I chop hard up
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| Before I drink some Activis that’s fake, I’ll pour Par up
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| Ah, Jay, I’m charged up too
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| Seen an opp at Summerfield, that’s a shot-up school
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| Drunk an eight of Wock' straight, it look like I shot up food
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| Dropped dog gettin' in his car, house got shot up too
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| They asked me who smoked dog, I ain’t got a clue
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| Oh, your daddy do dog? |
| I kinda knew
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| Teach me 'bout the EDD shit, bro, I’m kinda new
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| Let E smell the weed 'fore I buy, he a connoisseur
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| Baby mama put me on child support, I countersue her
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| Wayne tried to mix the song when we was done and we got into it
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| Smart as fuck, but when I get caught up, I’m kinda stupid
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| Bitch, you got ass shots, that is not your booty
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| Fucked twelve hoes raw this week, I think I got the cooties
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| Told Jay he can’t drop a chain if it’s not a coochie
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| A red nigga drunk with dreads in his head, I’m not with Poody
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| You ain’t never heard a nigga say he shot at Louie
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| I can’t pay a nigga to kill for me, bro, I gotta do it
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| They wonder how I made a half a mil', I dropped a lot of music
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| Take the Draco to the booth and drop chopper music
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| I ain’t poured no lean, I cracked the pint open and poured pop into it
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| Alright
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| I be fuckin' so much, I’m prostitutin'
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| How many fiends in your city? |
| 'Cause mine’s polluted
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| Cracked the seal and let the weed stank, ain’t nobody pooted
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| I be sellin' pills you can pop, couple niggas oodle
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| You can’t even stand on your own like your legs noodle
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| I be poppin' up in hoes' mouth, nigga, and Google
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| I can get you eggroll fried, nigga, and woodle
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| I told myself don’t let myself get ahead of myself
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| Chain sittin' on the dresser, the heat in the bed
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| Go to war with niggas' hood, I’m paintin' it red
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| Zo be sellin' five packs at time, that was eighty a head (Nigga)
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| I had to hate the nigga, put eight in his head
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| Pourin' out half of the pop to put eight in the rest
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| Bro noddin' out sittin' up, he breakin' his neck
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| I be always doin' real shit like breakin' a check (Come on)
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| I ain’t ask you phone for a bitch, she expectin' a text
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| Sellin' dope out the
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| Sellin' dope out the glass jar, left an eight in the 'Rex
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| Told bro grab a Backwood, put an eighthy that
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| My fiend keep beggin' for a front, he makin' me mad
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| My one girl bought pills back to back, she makin' me laugh
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| Back when that’s my whole motherfuckin' life, I was a clown in the class
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| Damn, I mean class clown
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| Niggas know they’ll get beat the fuck up, they put them straps down
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| Put my fiend in a headlock on Thursday night, but this ain’t Smackdown
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| I was out the way for a minute, but I’m back now |