| Ayy, ayy, ayy
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| Ayy, ayy, ayy (Ransom)
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| Ayy, ayy, ayy
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| Ayy, ayy, ayy (Ransom)
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| Ayy, ayy, ayy
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| I’m a running man
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| Sandals slippin' off my feet, on the sand
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| Countin' up the bills with my dominant hand, yo yo
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| Took twos on, take this appreciate it
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| This too? |
| Why tear up the rim shop? |
| Haha
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| Mike WiLL Made-It
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| I’m goin' postal, loco, coast to coast like La Nostra
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| My G.I. |
| Joe present, I’ve yet to see a cobra
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| So off my rocker got me sippin' club soda
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| Some bombs never go off, some stars never blow up
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| I’m pitchin' and never in a dug out
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| Reachin' in my pants and I can’t take a head count
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| Flash back '03, things was lookin' run down
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| Now I set foot in the place, it’s a luau
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| Killin' shit like ten counts, y’all know how we get down
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| House with the fence around, y’all know that we in route
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| Transition from the Impala to the Fisker
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| I should charge admission for that girl to get the dessert
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| Left the doors up, now the Lambo' has pigtails
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| Since you gettin' comfy, I’ma let you sit there
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| I’ma let you stay there, when I shed a tear
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| They didn’t have no care, so I’ma charge retail
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| I brought some kush 'cause you say you want set sail
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| If you love sick in the room, you best get well
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| Every dog has its day, what the hell? |
| No tuck tail
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| Swae Lee went to magazine, double X-L
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| Floss with your Gucci on, bloods dipped in goo
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| Colors burst on the cars and the jewels
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| I’m a wanted man
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| Seats lookin' like they got a spray tan
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| When I was without, not a helpin' hand
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| I got some women that throw it back and make me drop the cans
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| I told Ben Frank' just to drop a pin
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| I collect my fit goal to the highest bid
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| Yes, I might drop in, it all depends
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| Junior high, I was dreamin' of a Mach 10
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| I’m comin' clean though, I mean not a speck
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| My girl be servin' looks, I could kiss the chef
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| Katana sword poppin' out my, walkin' cane
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| I’m overseas, my Cali bae like, «How was Spain?»
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| We gettin' to the money and you niggas havin' issues
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| I bought a fuckin' piece and it came with a wet suit
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| The Buddha left me without breath, I really am a mess
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| I’m moochin' off my mother-lovin' self
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| She be hopin' that I take a knee like Kaepernick, yes
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| I be open to that «SremmLife"shit (SremmLife!)
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| This is how we live, this is how we exist
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| Hoes love the kicks and we love the hits
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| All in the house and I’m home-wreckin'
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| If I sleep with his wife, I’m a home-wrecker
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| I’m in my own world, throw the money up and make my own weather
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| Mami playin' with my balls like tether, on my leather
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| Money talk, it’s a lecture
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| 80 pointers dance on me, it’s electric
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| Niggas gon' hate, I’m still unaffected
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| Chip on my shoulder, I move undetected
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| She said pop the question, the question got deflected
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| Man them men my boy, that’s my motherfuckin' brethren
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| Let’s cut to the chase
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| It’s only on the house when we in the place
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| My Houston lava boys got it up in some flames
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| Stirrin' up the cup with my wrist, souffle
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| Shaka Zulu chains with my name engraved
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| I told you all in «Swang», don’t say my name in vain
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| We bring it to your door like (*doorbell*) «You rang?!»
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| Spendin' all the money then we watch it boomerang
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| With the fendi belt, angry face like Pootie Tang
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| Put some gold on my fingers, neck and shoestrings
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| «Long time, no see,"that's what they say when they see me mane
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| I been goin' crazy, just to stay sane
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| Hey, your girl went missin', who’s to blame?
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| Young whipper snapper with the Range
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| Pause, then I went deranged
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| Call that hottie on my station
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| Long week, but a great day
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| Someone got my blowin' tree like Sage
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| On me you should get erased
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| On me, yeah, you can hate |