| Okay
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| Yeah, I see what we doin'
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| Don’t even worry about it
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| Man of my word
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| Look
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| Shit goin' wrong but I try not to be pessimistic (I try)
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| They gettin' rich on OnlyFans, I might invest in bitches (Woo)
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| If she keep it ten toes, she get a necklace gifted
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| Head doctor would of thought I got her neck perscripted (Prescribed)
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| These suckers wanna live my life, but they ain’t never risk it
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| Heavy is the head that wears the crown and you ain’t never lift it (At all)
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| You started thuggin' when thy let you in this record business
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| I grw up druggin', started rappin' then I left the business
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| Repetitious how my youngin’s keep on spinnin' back (They just keep spinnin')
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| 'Cause we don’t hold grudges, we remember facts
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| Ain’t into cap, this new era is corny
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| I flirt with death 'cause life a bitch and it keep gettin' her horny
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| We mix these hundreds with these fifties, had a revenue orgy
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| Major labels reachin' out but they could never afford me (Not me)
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| I got sneaker box money, Flight Club in my closet
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| Independent powerhouse with a hustler’s logic (Blanco)
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| Wet him up, I bet he run like a faucet
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| Diamonds drippin', pipes burst before we take any losses
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| My wrist could turn a hater’s stomach, VVs be makin' him nauseous
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| Make-believe bosses don’t know the feelin' racin' these Porches
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| I be with cocaina traffickers, Santeria practicers
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| The baddest hoes attach 'em to my dick like a catheter
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| Kush the color lavender
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| Passenger in the Bentley peelin'
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| Old hoes gossipin' like Wendy Williams, shit, I’m chillin'
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| Talk your shit, my boy
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| You know I’m fuckin' with you
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| The Butcher comin', nigga
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| Look
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| How you gon' relate to us if you don’t know hunger? |
| (Huh?)
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| In 2005, we robbed shit the whole summer (Me and City Boy)
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| Now my safe filled with cobwebs and old hundreds (Old hundreds)
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| I just got offered a record deal and don’t want it (Uh uh)
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| Y’all follow all the lit trends
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| I’m winter vacationin' with my rich friends
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| They slam doors in my face then I slipped in (Sorry)
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| They hatin' on your dawg
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| They family pics I used to hang above the star turned to a brick worth of
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| paintings on the wall (Woo), it’s money
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| You know how to persuade me, I’m what these Presidents made me
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| Have a son with my lady and let the plug name the baby (Ha ha ha)
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| Bein' okay is cool but great how they gon' rate me
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| Kurt Warner got a ring but who wouldn’t rather be Brady? |
| (Who?)
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| Yeah, the word travel when street niggas turn fragile
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| Dirt nap you or help you get rich and throw work at you (What it’s gon be?)
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| Coolin', not tryna get niggas wet up, I birdbath you
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| The crib got six figures stashed in the third bathroom, yeah
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| If you don’t do nothin' else, just believe these quotes (Believe this shit)
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| These rules you could live by, not just some things rewrote
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| Give 'em game, not money, that’s how they see you the dough
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| 'Cause you could give 'em money to eat but next week he’s broke (Damn)
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| Uh huh
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| You can’t treat these niggas how they treat you, they beneath you
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| Take off on them when they start to feel equal
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| Dark liquor in them nights in the trenches made me evil
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| Empty shells on the ground next to empty bottles of Clicquot
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| The Butcher |