| AKA Laurenovichi
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| Uhh, yeah
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| Harry Fraud shit
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| (La musica de Harry Fraud)
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| Check it, yo
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| Flex professional, I’m athletic
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| Brown paper bags on deck, we pass credit
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| Only thing I’m swipin' is ya bitch, nigga
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| Uhh, cause you a motherfuckin' bitch, nigga
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| You’re bad at life, it’s what you deserve
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| I get it shakin' like a mixed drink about to get served
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| Breezin' through them good blocks, blastin' Half-A-Mil
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| Beneficial, you niggas isn’t half as ill
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| Cashmere cranberry Louie V hat
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| Drops samples of the work, gimme feedback
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| Uhh, let me know if I should re that, re that
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| I know you motherfuckers need that
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| Smooth with it, my team was right off the block
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| You know the crew with it, now we settin' up shop
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| My niggas blew with it, now we up at the top
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| Uhh, what the fuck you forgot? |
| It’s Lauren
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| Yo, I rather cop a Portuguese then support a skeezer
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| When it comes to trickin' on bitches, I’m Ebenezer
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| Flyest that you ever seen, tryin' to get forever cream
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| I’ll get you shot by some little nigga sippin' lean
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| Winter green Carhartt hoodie with the chains out
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| 'Bout to come back to New York and etch ya names out
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| Uptown, playin' dominoes at La Marina
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| Same day, building with the Gods in Medina
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| Washingtons take flight on a late night
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| We gettin' cake right, what the fuck is date night?
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| Fatigued out, but I’m well rested
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| Desert storm covered my form, peep how I dressed it
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| I’m obsessed with, classical ill shit, I live that
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| Brought new life to New York, my niggas did that
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| Eatin' tuna (?) above Toro
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| Timepiece straight from Tourneau, my niggas on, yo |