| Only one credit at the end 'cause I did this shit by myself
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| She jealous that promethazine was my first love, I can’t help, uh
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| Codeine never get the best of me and I swim in it like Phelps
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| Just left Saks, I’m a glory boy, mismatch designer, no belt
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| Bitch gon' do what she do and I’m cool with it
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| Fast car, it’s American-made, but this the one with the cooling kit
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| Label can’t make no niggas slaves as long as we recoup this shit
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| I’ma pull up, boy, I’m still legit
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| Just can’t go with them pigs again, uh
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| I’m crying on my knees, I know I won’t sin again
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| Ain’t no part of my life cheap, that’s just me and them hoes again
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| Somethin' 'bout foreigns on South Beach just make me hate normal shit
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| Dress code, tell us to wear formal shit, we don’t even know what formal is
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| I can’t wait for no shit that I’m just born to get
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| I like muscle and foreign whips, older, I might get bored of it
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| Tune her like my racetrack, know you gon' call my phone again
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| I can’t wait for no shit that I’m just born to get
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| I can’t wait for no shit that I’m just born to get
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| I can’t wait for no shit that I’m just born to get
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| Ayy, I’m just born to get it
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| I can’t wait for no shit that I’m just born to get |