| Imma head you behind
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| Ain’t shit funny now
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| Wasn’t a dummy then
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| Not a dummy now
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| Tried to build bridges with you niggas
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| But they crumbled down
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| When I’m rappin' on the mic
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| That’s how that money sound
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| Say she ready for the world
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| Wanna love me down
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| Feelin like Ant of ATL
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| I get that cutting now
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| And you know that bitch be with me
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| Like my buddy now
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| Hop on the track
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| 'Tigue on the beat
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| You know its goin' down
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| Make niggas scared
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| Hands shaky just like Doctor Strange
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| I never change
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| Just switch lanes
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| That’s two different things
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| Me and you niggas not the same
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| Got a different aim
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| We not on the same track
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| He caught a different train
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| Get your girl, 'cause she can end up mine, nigga
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| Get her with me, not like James
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| We gotta Bond, nigga
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| Only gon' fuck, she talkin' head
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| Zordon nigga
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| And if not, cut it short
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| Like a lawn, nigga!
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| Run up and catch shots
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| Like I’m spotted up
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| Pull out like extended I’m droppin' 'em
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| I hustle, get cash, I ain’t have enough
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| Now my pockets stuffed like a locker, huh
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| She give it to me like a stick up
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| I blow her back out like a pickup
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| I be with some hustlers we get it
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| We work out some packs like a sit up!
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| Welcome to my land, nigga
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| This is Skull Island
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| Monsters over here
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| So I hope you don’t try it
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| Imma get to blowin' like the flute
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| Tryna spy kid
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| But lately I been chillin'
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| Needed space, no hyphen
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| The road from the Palms, I truck it
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| Swear, it’s always somethin'
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| I came from nothin' to somethin'
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| So please do not make no assumptions
|
| Then with the mops, no bucket
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| Like I’m bout to bust, I’m coming
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| I pull up with niggas, like fuck it
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| Neighborhood hear all the ruckus!
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| Gotta watch for all the fake
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| Stay away from impostors
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| No lyin', one loyal lion
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| Wouldn’t pull no Mufasa
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| When I’m ridin', probably see me with his baby, no toddler
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| And I ain’t worried bout no niggas bitch, hakuna matata!
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| Squad!
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| Yeah!
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| TO3!
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| FGE shit man!
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| All I know is live fly
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| Y’know where the fuck we came from man
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| Let’s get it!
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| Project Baby, nigga!
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| Streets what made me, nigga!
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| God what changed me
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| But you gon' meet him
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| Ever try to play me, nigga!
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| It slim from the shady
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| Make your head spin like the '80s!
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| Whack yo ass at 4 A.M.,
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| Watch they get grim on the Daily, look!
|
| Bacardi 151 on the rocks
|
| Had to get it straight
|
| No warning shots
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| Flame hit his lips like they licked the top
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| Make them swing and twist, watch them milly rock
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| Make the dime trip
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| And imma take this shit way up a notch
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| Gamble with ya life and I’ll be sittin' waitin' to pull on you, like a fuckin'
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| slot
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| Often I’m saucin'
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| Get a coffin for talkin'
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| Tell the haters I hear it
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| It’s on my hip like a Walkman
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| 'Cept the price goin' down
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| Killers bid like an auction
|
| You in the field but we hawkin'
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| Removin' life like abortions
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| Yeah, I’m too hot, that’s why I be cool
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| Fly by a nigga B2
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| Leprechaun about meloo
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| Try to Marty Wolf me, you’ll leak blue
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| Where I’m from, you need ski shoes
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| But you’ll die tryin' to walk in these boots
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| You of least concerns it’s a big bird, it ain’t never fly, emu
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| Wet 'em down, mop sticks
|
| How you duckin' hoes, ostrich
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| I be poppin' straps, leave 'em topless
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| Get chained if you ain’t got sense
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| Word from the wise
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| Stay alert at all times
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| If you ain’t prepared to kill
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| Then I hope you ready to die
|
| But, I’m loaded and cocked
|
| Ain’t no safety on mine
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| I ain’t wastin' no time
|
| Bitch I’m gon' make you a Vine
|
| I’m gon' shoot like a star
|
| You’ll have a place in the sky
|
| All that talk that you hard
|
| But semis say you a lie
|
| Bah!
|
| Wings up in this bitch, man
|
| Don’t doubt the God
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| Don’t doubt the squad, man
|
| I told you it’s our year
|
| MOB!
|
| You decide
|
| FGE or nothin'
|
| Nigga choose a side
|
| With us, or you not
|
| You ain’t with us
|
| Nigga that’s suicide
|
| Shoot yourself or tie that fuckin' rope around ya neck
|
| Never ran from nothin'
|
| But I’m runnin' up a check
|
| I be flexin' with the bars on you niggas
|
| Ain’t here to rep
|
| If I want to send a message
|
| I’ll hit his ass with the Tecs
|
| I’ll pull it so don’t push me, boy
|
| I’m livin' on the edge
|
| Think you’re cool and get smoked
|
| Like two Ls to the head, yeah!
|
| Ah, shit
|
| Big MOB, boss shit
|
| Put that 12 to his back like LaMarcus Aldridge |
| That’s the pump
|
| Make 'em jump
|
| On some criss cross shit
|
| Leave 'em wet
|
| With a hole in his top, dolphin
|
| Ay!
|
| We shootin' shit
|
| Give a fuck 'bout who you with
|
| Camera man with the cannon
|
| I be on some movie shit
|
| Put a rappin' nigga in the cast like he Ludacris
|
| Mask off, leave him in the past
|
| On my Future shit
|
| Stupid bitch, twist your top
|
| Like a two liter bottle
|
| Two 9 Millimeters
|
| Brand new, out the box
|
| Be cool 'fore a nigga breeze through on ya block
|
| Boom, Boom!
|
| Like a clown, nigga smooth out his socks
|
| Bang!
|
| You know me
|
| Smoke 'em like a joint, bitch
|
| Plus
|
| I never disappoint, bitch
|
| Ah, ah!
|
| Don’t doubt the God, mothafucka
|
| This that new drug
|
| We all armed around this bitch like a group hug!
|
| Jumpman, Jumpman
|
| Jumpman, Jumpman
|
| Jumpman, Jumpman!
|
| Punch line after punch line
|
| I give beats concussions!
|
| Toughman, Toughman, Toughman
|
| What’s with all the frontin'?
|
| I’ll smoke you, take you out your group David Ruffin!
|
| Gunmen, Gunmen, Gunmen
|
| 3D popout, dumpin'!
|
| Took off his top, he just got lit up like a pumpkin!
|
| Do a drill, my hammer nail you no construction
|
| If police question, I act dumb and I know nothin'!
|
| You weak as shit
|
| FGE bitch, we the shit
|
| You’ll get shot just for blinkin', bitch
|
| I’ll Tee up like I’m drinkin' Brisk
|
| Blow your top off, raise the roof
|
| You assed out just like Daisy dukes
|
| Hop out that Mercedes coupe
|
| Them Jordan’s on me, Baby Blue
|
| I got bars and bread but bitch
|
| I’m tryna see El Chapo bands
|
| That cheese on top of chips
|
| I had to tell that bitch I’m nacho man
|
| Bandana on like Macho Man
|
| They can’t see me like Hollow Man
|
| But run up, it’s gon' cost you
|
| Bitch, I got more shells than taco stands
|
| Cut out all that tough shittin'
|
| Miss me with that fuck shit
|
| 'Cause when this rapper slide
|
| It won’t be Weezy in no Trukfit
|
| My whole team slidin' with them sticks
|
| Mighty ducks, bitch!
|
| So many shots that he won’t know what hit 'em
|
| Like a trumpet
|
| I promise, I’m too clutch, bitch
|
| Ray Allen for them bucks, bitch
|
| They mad and I’m just thumbin' through these hunnids
|
| Like a truck stick
|
| God! |