| Tatted on your face, at least I think that it’s real
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| Make that shit back, kid, it’s easy to me
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| Think she for the streets, but the streets been ghost
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| I throw that shit for fun, she think she teasing me
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| Wifi on the plane, she gon' call before she land
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| Super-duper car, red key in the Jeep
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| I’m a fast car appraiser, blue thirty popper
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| M boxes in Hollywood, live at the Roxy
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| No ho know my government, I’m Tune, I be with Scotty
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| Mash-off papi, I screech in the street
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| No more heart left 'cause I’m feedin' the beast
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| Real hellraiser, back when we just take shit
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| I’m forever blessed like Memphis Bleek, Jehovah’s favorite
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| I cut niggas off 'cause I know banks don’t cover favorites
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| Ayy, ayy, ooh
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| Tatted on your face, at least I think that it’s real
|
| Tatted on your face, at least I think that it’s, ooh
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| At least I think that’s it real
|
| Tatted on your face, at least I think that it’s real
|
| Make that shit back, kid, it’s easy to me
|
| Think she for the streets, but the streets been ghost
|
| I throw that shit for fun, she think she teasing me
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| Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
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| I throw that shit for fun, she think she teasing me
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| Ayy, ayy, ooh, ayy, yeah (Nash Effect)
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| Tatted on your face so I know that it’s real |