| Yea. |
| serious shit.
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| Aiyyo, this time its for my family, we ride or die
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| Its in the blood til the death, now aim for the sky
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| My fo blow for sure, for dough, for own land.
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| Its money, drugs, and hot slugs
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| Its money, drugs, and hot slugs
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| Its money, drugs, and hot slugs
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| Its money, drugs, and hot slugs
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| Niggas said I cant do it Funny I done it The album is here, now who the fuck want it?
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| I let niggas eat now Im here to collect
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| I admit they tried, but they aint rep correct
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| Now the dinner tables set and its my time to eat
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| Dont even wipe your mouth, get up, be out!
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| Dont let the cars fool you, or the jewelry blind you
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| My lifes the realest nigga, I should write me a novel
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| This for them broads thatll hold me down
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| And my niggas on the internet that download my style
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| And my dog in line in at chow
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| Just bangin with his walkman playin me loud
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| And the nigga with that plate
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| Choppin them grams, him and his man
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| Listening to music that they understand
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| And that white boy goin to college
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| He dont know about the ghetto but know how to hold metal
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| Them white boys, theyll shoot shit up They can listen to this shit, I dont give two fucks
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| But back to it, sippin on that cognac fluid
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| In the porsche, burnin the conduit
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| This is ride music, get high music
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| That m dot, hot supply music
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| Thats the answer, lifes like cancer
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| I thought I told yall niggas Im serious!
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| Its money, drugs, and hot slugs, you know bleek |