| Trade in my soul
|
| I’m a slave to that dough
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| Fuck it, pay me
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| I don’t want no fame
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| I’m on a low budget
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| Make what I own
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| Get out my face
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| I don’t owe nothing
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| Trade in my soul
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| I’m a slave to that dough
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| Fuck it
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| Thousand bitches, thousand bitches
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| Girls everywhere, I’m tryna take a couple of 'em home
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| Sailor Jerry’s got me slurring like a motherfucker though
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| A thousand bitches, quick put them in a row
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| I’ve gotta be up in the morning to shoot a fucking video
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| Nah, I can never fuck a thousand bitches
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| Cause I always fucking cum in about 6 minutes
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| But I get the job done, don’t doubt it
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| Mr. Fantastic, Stretch Armstrong, Dhalsim did it
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| Bitch I ain’t swapping digits
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| My mind stay on my business
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| I ain’t misogynistic, I’ve just got a lot of bitches
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| Been everybody’s demons
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| Now I’m seeking my inner peace
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| I want five Latin wives and three from the Philippines
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| I just hope I don’t die before they legalise weed and polygamy
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| I’m starting to get a hard-on
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| She said «what? |
| I beg your pardon?»
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| I said «bitch, are you retarded?»
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| «What you doing in the V.I.P with all these artists? |
| You ain’t talent scouting,
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| you want hard dick»
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| Although I’m ugly somehow I got women
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| Don’t want me? |
| I’m putting it down to my lyrics
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| I jump in the crowd and they gripping my penis or ripping my jeans,
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| I’ve got hundreds and thousands of bitches |