| Bottle after bottle, model after model
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| Spending all this paper like I fucking hit the lotto
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| All I know is YOLO, nigga, that’s the motto
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| Ricky told me, «Get em,» and I told him that I got ‘em
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| And I got ‘em every day, every day
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| Bad bitch and she gon fuck me every way, never stay
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| Once I hit it, then I’m dipping that-a-way, that-a-way
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| Young nigga from the bottom and I never had a way
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| I really went from whipping 62′s to whipping 62′s
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| Ain’t none of my niggas Crip, and we giving niggas the blues
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| We buying they hoes bags, getting they bitches shoes
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| You wondering why she ain’t fucking, we winning, nigga you lose
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| Yeah, I’m flexing
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| I pull up in a Ghost, hundred on my necklace
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| And all my diamonds clear, they VVS’ing
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| I turn into a toilet on these niggas, they BS-ing
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| Two fingers, did it on ‘em
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| Hold up, I really shitted on ‘em
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| I dropped Dreamchaser and I made a milli on ‘em
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| It don’t matter what city I’m in, I’m going Philly in ‘em
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| With my red P hat, nigga you know we back
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| I’m going to Houston, I heard that’s where they cheap at
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| I done put them Percs down, think I’m 'bout to relapse
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| Just to give her dope dick and ask her for some feedback
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| Like «Shorty, do you love this dick?
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| You know who you fucking with?»
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| Grab her by her weave, smack her ass like you fucking bitch
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| Don’t I talk nasty, she don’t know my government
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| But she gon' get this dick and chew me up just like some Double Mint
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| Check me I be jumping out the coupe, swagger through the roof
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| Bad bitches waving at me, real niggas salute
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| I ain’t gotta lie, they know I’m the truth
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| And I ain’t gotta say I’m fly, this G5 with the crew
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| I’m in the air bitch, diamonds clear bitch
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| Took off my Rollie and got on some Audemeer shit
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| I hear these haters talking, but I don’t hear shit
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| ‘Cause we get them bricks and stack them up just like a pyramid
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| Y’all niggas talk like bitches do
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| Same niggas in the district giving interviews
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| I got killers on my team that’ll get at you
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| For a brick or two, really put an end to you
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| Black 3 cement, sag jeans sittin -low
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| Effortless flow, a couple sum’n a show
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| Youngin is 21, we playing?
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| Probably fuck up your budget, yea, I’m playing with numbers
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| Put that shit on whatever, we running another summer
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| Liquor, lot of bottles, tab — you know I got it
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| Spend a night up at Diamonds, ain’t tricking if you got it
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| Designer shit, though I’m modest, astonishing to be honest
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| Obama shit on my arm, a presidential, you got it?
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| Get your revenue popping before you ever do talk on them
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| Niggas who work too hard to not show it off via flossing
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| Double M G harder than anything that you part of
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| This professional ball, the best you niggas
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| Yea I’m on that ball shit, boy you with that soft shit
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| ‘Fore he hit the room, hear the «Vroom!» |
| from the Porsche bitch
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| «On that Yamaha, pardon me, that’s Meek and them»
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| She say she is not a groupie, «I just wanna speak to them!»
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| You lying though, you tryna go
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| Apply smoke and watch the motherfucking pride go
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| These little bitches is little bitches, we never love ‘em
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| To all the sisters with ambition, I see your hustle
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| I’m trying to go though, y’all already know though
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| Stepping on ‘em, they slept on us
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| Whoever want it, they better note that I’m so focused
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| A message to my opponent: they better off trying to clone us
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| Keep her in Chanel while your bitch is like an L
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| When she out, you looking in?, all she need is like an L
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| That’s why I never trust a ho, no never me
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| I just wanna get some head, maybe ass ‘fore I leave
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| Fuck a beef, keep it moving, she easily influenced
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| You niggas keep sleeping, you gon' need to meet?
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| I can’t stand no motherfucking Hoover
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| I’ma keep the reefer, you can have the hookah
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| Versace, Medusa, I probably, abuse it
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| Around me, my crew, your bitch probably throw two up
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| Party with bitches that throw parties too much
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| We skip right to fucking, they call you that dulush
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| And what, deuce up |