| See, I ain’t fucking bitches I just get they money
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| Get around a small mil, big bitch at night time
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| I don’t keep it secret, they all know that it is my grind
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| Some of them be threes and fours, they make me feel special though
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| Cause by fucking with me they feel like a special ho
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| I just keep it real, all across this rap shit
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| Best duo ever and we didn’t have to do no backflips
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| This that Main Attrakz shit, OG got the thumper
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| And it’s resting in his lap shit, I’m backseat texting
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| I’m backseat flexing, never backseat sexing
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| Always in the studio my music way fresher
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| My bars incarcerate me, records got me a record
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| And record after record, I keep buzzing harder
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| I tell girls my war stories, feeling like my father
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| Rolling O-Water, skinny nigga Squadda
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| Green Ova 1 through 5, living what we taught ya
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| Living what we taught ya, living what we taught ya
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| Green Ova 1 through 5, living what we taught ya
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| You can’t hate, you can’t hate, chuch
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| Some just do it for the sport and don’t play it in court
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| Caught up like a fish net, now she’s getting your check
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| Should’ve pulled the Nick Cannon, maybe then I’d understand it
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| Hopping out of foreign things, counting paper she be handing
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| Now and Later? |
| That’s the candy that explains how I feel
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| Salute the smell all on your body, sergeant wants to drill
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| You eat the dick, you starving still? |
| Then we can get a mil
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| A mil? |
| Baby, add it up a lot of meals
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| She’s lost in this world, smoking weed, popping pills
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| College money got her rocking J’s, no heels
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| Some of my turf bitches ain’t up on Google
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| Think I’m selling the dream so I don’t say what I’m doing
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| Just a regular grind and getting cheddar up
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| 7−11, I’m up steam from the twos cooking up
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| Stand tall on them, have them looking up
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| Have your bitch alley-ooping, let’s ball, give it up |