| Did y’all expect us? |
| No, uh
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| Bitches, can y’all get naked?
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| That’s right
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| Uh, y’all know me, and the dough I see
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| Fa so la ti, it’s chi chi
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| Ladies wanna hold me, get to know me
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| Talks to eat shit, wanna sleep with it
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| Simplisticness keeps me hot, while y’all stress
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| Tryin' to see the top stop, everything drop so
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| Everything drop platinum or gold
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| And the whole world know
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| I’m that playboy J, doin' it my way like Usher
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| And I don’t feel bad when I crush ya
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| Like blush ya, style big ball, I’ma hit y’all
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| With shit that’s gon' make niggas forget y’all
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| You feel me dog? |
| I’m a C H I, multi
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| And I live and die for the whole pie
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| You can call it what you want
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| I’m a motherfuckin' vet
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| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
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| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
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| It’s that platinum shit, that’s all we get
|
| So let it be known that it’s all for real
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| And all we about is them dollar dollar bills
|
| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
|
| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
|
| It’s that platinum shit, that’s all we get
|
| So let it be known that it’s all for real
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| And all we about is them dollar dollar bills
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| You know that Na Na got the heater shit
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| That uh, everybody wanna eat her shit
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| Niggas talkin' about they six wanna see this shit
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| Knowin' half a y’all broads wanna be this bitch
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| From NY to the west side
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| Motherfuckers keep me in the best ride
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| 38 chest size, ain’t fuckin' less, I come off
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| With like 30 G’s easy once the nigga dead off
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| Shit, never trust shit, I gives a fuck
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| I’m a ring finger rock chick, straight lock bitch
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| And everything I rocks with
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| Either pops shit or fuck a nigga topless, y’all hoes finky
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| Got to bank this to even see me half naked
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| Like the black Susan Lucci, stiletto pumps, Gucci
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| Ridiculous ice, tag me, million dollar price
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| Stay frontin', y’all cats ain’t seen nothin'
|
| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
|
| It’s that platinum shit, that’s all we get
|
| So let it be known that it’s all for real
|
| And all we about is them dollar dollar bills
|
| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
|
| It’s that platinum shit, that’s all we get
|
| So let it be known that it’s all for real
|
| And all we about is them dollar dollar bills
|
| I push a six feet drop, red and pallamino
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| And keep the semi glock, where ever me go
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| I stay ruger ready, or either Smith and Wesson
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| And burn hearts, like they indigested it if I’m tested
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| So where you wanna meet at playa, over here?
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| I’ll be the one with all the ice on in the surplus gear
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| Plus I’ll tell you what’s real, so uh, baby listen
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| Put your shades on when you peep the Lex 'cuz the baguettes glisten
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| I want the whole three dozen and with that drama, biz
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| Well, it all depends on how ill your na na is
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| Can you go O-T with a few and a gun?
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| But can you cook it with the whoop and make two outta one?
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| Now you can be up in the west and do it my way
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| Or hit the homie JD in Atlanta, GA
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| Wanna ball, well, let’s bounce, get the heat and the scale
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| Now Mack and Fox Boogie got dope to sell
|
| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
|
| It’s that platinum shit, that’s all we get
|
| So let it be known that it’s all for real
|
| And all we about is them dollar dollar bills
|
| And ain’t none a y’all seen nothin' yet
|
| It’s that platinum shit, that’s all we get
|
| So let it be known that it’s all for real
|
| And all we about is them dollar dollar bills
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| Turn it up
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| The Hoo Banger, Mack 10
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| The Ill Na Na, Foxy Brown
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| And the homie JD, the don chi chi
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| We got the Recipe, break it down |