| I’m everybody’s favorite plug, with no me they out of sockets
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| Got clients that’s on probation, say the drugs too good to drop it
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| That’s they problem. |
| Yeah that’s they problem
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| I keep 'em hooked and hungover, I’m the drug dealing closet
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| They short with cash and beg for soft passes, ain’t lobbing
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| They love me. |
| They quit and come right back, they Brett Favre-ing
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| Better stop it. |
| They better stop it
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| Cause if they leave I get a better cheesehead like Aaron Rogers
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| Check my posture, I’m too straight to get robbed or caught by the cops
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| So all these setting me up, snitching on me rumors better stop
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| If pockets wet enough, I come clean the job up with druggie mops
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| No I’m no goofy, no pushing me around, my buggy locked, uh
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| I probably come off as selfish and OC
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| But this my show, they buy the ticket, so I give 'em the nosebleeds and shit
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| Long as they keep copping and telling their homies
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| I’m like a desk in math class: they can count on me
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| Uh
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| So it’s real, the streets talking huh?
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| The whole town on me
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| As long as they know I don’t do handouts
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| Again, they can count on me
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| They can count on me
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| They can count on me
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| As long as they know I don’t do handouts
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| They can count on me
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| So that one Black bitch? |
| She beat her addiction, pray for a relapse
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| Got offended by the first count on me and then went to rehab
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| That’s my fault, she say «You tweeking, people shouldn’t know what I’m into
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| I’m your patient anyway, thought our sessions were confidential»
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| But fuck that bitch, know I’m serving if you call
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| But anyways I’m back to moving them packs like U-Haul
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| As matter fact, think the junkies love me just as much as packs
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| It’s probably that, druggies keep 'em rolling, pray they never crap, uh
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| And if they nice, 12 for 32 like rulers
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| That’s why I gotta keep my eyes open like pervs in Hooters
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| No tricks up they sleeves, I give 'em vests, don’t let 'em fool you
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| They gotta learn to count on me like grade schoolers
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| And if they nice, 12 for 32 like rulers
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| That’s why I gotta keep my eyes open like pervs in Hooters
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| No tricks up they sleeves, I give 'em vests, don’t let 'em fool you
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| The first one didn’t get to 'em, so I «Part Two"ed 'em, uh
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| So it’s real, the streets talking huh?
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| So the whole town on me?
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| As long as they know I don’t do handouts
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| Again, they can count on me
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| They can count on me |