| «I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «I'm-I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «I'm-I'm gone party swimmin' in my swimmin' pool»
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| «Living inside, lookin' like a living room, my nigga» --] ???
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| Come one, come all, it’s playa made, we do this here like everyday
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| Hypnotic bottles and tanguaray, fillet mignon stake on my plate
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| It’s paradise for a young playa, my Johnny watch stay on glare
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| Got a swimming pool built upstairs, no baller blockin', it’s lovely
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| I smell like money and talk shit, don’t like my style, get off dick
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| And press stop, turn it off quick, cause 'round here, we ballin', bitch
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| And they grade me, strictly told me that I would nevermind me nothin' (Fat
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| bitch)
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| Now who’s taking Benji' callings on TV screens, God damnit, Lucky
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| Jet skis
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| Palm trees
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| DVD’s, six CD’s
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| Spendin' G’s on diamond teeth, then hotel suites in Miami beach
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| Ha
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| Take a look at me, now
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| Bling, blaow, girl, you wild
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| Take off your clothes and get naked now, I pimp up pimpin' and say it proud
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| Open wide, give me brain, don’t forget to give me my change
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| Pimp my shrimp, rub my feet
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| When you done, holla my name
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| Now get upstairs and take a bath, and shave ya legs and the coochie too
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| I’ll be waitin', jammin' Screw, smokin' weed in my swimmin' pool
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| Repeat Chorus
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| I’m ballin' boy and lovin' it, all 'round my neck, got somethin' sick
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| It ain’t my fault I fucked ya bitch, she cooked me food and served my dick
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| Left ya kids at her mama’s house, then came, jumped on a baller log
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| No problem, mayne, can these ballers bop, come on, mayne, I’m off the lot
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| Chrome shine, grill blingin', candy paint and wood grain
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| TV screens and leather chairs like a living room, I fuckin' swear
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| Tryna steer, she saddled up and rolled the dome 'round the six-10 loop
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| Skeet, skeet, through the rubber, hot, I dropped her off, boy, I’m a fool
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| Zipped up my 'Sache jeans, then proceeded to hit the club
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| Hit the lot and turned heads, then got 'em all like what it does
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| Next, snap, when I walked in
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| Playa Made Mexican ballin'
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| Braided up with a diamond grin'
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| Crystal, Don P and a bottle of Hen'
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| In the V.I.P
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| Gettin' gone
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| Look at these hoes all on my bone
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| Fuck puttin' nothin' but in my phone, just get in your car and follow me home
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| Two o’clock and the club’s closed, but this party just began (Biotch!)
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| 3 A.M. |
| we at the crib, come off your clothes, went enterin'
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| Repeat Chorus
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| And I’m iced up
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| Lookin' clean, Lucky got the sun on his team
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| Big Franco on my bezle chain, get a close up of that pinky ring
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| You never seen no Mexican with blue diamonds on his teeth
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| And you never seen no Mexican talk a stripper out some jeans
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| Better up that ladder, try again, it’s hard to reach my status
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| Ain’t no chance at this cat ballin' off, I rather keep on laughin'
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| I be stackin' like no other, buster call me Master Yoda
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| I’m space age and I’m playa made, young famous Saviola
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| Creased jeans and new jays, somebody stole my Screw tape
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| You want this spot, but too late, I got this here and oooh, man
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| It feel good, I’m forever throwed, my Benzo two days old
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| Ten G’s and I rock a show, wake up, then put on my Versachi robe
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| Ordering off of menus with a bunch of bubba price food on them
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| Floss in a brand new breezy and she sure look like she model
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| Ain’t no dollars I can’t call, you ain’t got it, go on and walk
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| I’m two times to the left, three times to the right, then open up my ball
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| Repeat Chorus Three Times |