| Oooohhh… yeah yeah
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| Hands in the sky
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| And put 'em up hiiigh. |
| (2X)
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| Gimme reason why
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| If it’s your thing that ain’t workin then you improvise
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| Why… it's me… you hate… that's genocide
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| Everytime I’m in a vibe it’s me that they criticize
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| But everytime they in a ride it’s my song they memorize
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| The richer get richer the poorer get poorer
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| See I’m here to save the city like Sodom and Gomorrah
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| Got a order I’m awaitin from a 404, my aura’s not the Torah
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| Plus I’m jazzy like Norah
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| See my codi call me wodi, and don’t even know me
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| I been around the world man without a roadie
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| See I’m classic like a Audi
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| Save the game like a goalie
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| Got my Rollie, olie, so you can call me holy rollie
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| You don’t know what you’re in for, don’t do no endo
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| I’m not tintin' my windows
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| I’m not duckin' no bimbos
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| I’m saying 'N-O' to the nymphos
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| You got something to say, then send your memo
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| Do you remember how it used to be
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| Back in '96 when I made ya move ya feet
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| The feelin’s back so get up out your seat
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| Let’s do it again and again and again
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| Yea yea yea yea
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| Now it was this bounce, that opened up a Swiss account
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| If you get this, you guaranteed for this amount
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| Now can we pause for a minute, under the authentic
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| See I ain’t said a word and you’re already in it
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| See money is my linen, I get it as long as they print it
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| I tell ya that far, invest in Nascar
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| I leave the streets smokin' like brand new black tar
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| Girls… put stickeys everywhere my ass are
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| Silver horsey on the back, is this a fast car?
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| Yellow ice on Sunday, pink on a Monday
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| White ice, Six Flags, family on a fun day
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| Know much about a Hyundai, if you wanna come stay
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| We kick it, beat ticket, make on a one-way
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| Now what they gon' say? |
| I don’t need it?
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| They don’t really tell the truth, man they life was defeated
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| They quite conceited
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| They rockin' all that ice that’s treated
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| I wrote a book about it, like to read it, huh, huh, huh, huh?
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| (Say ohhhh… yeah yeah
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| Hands in the sky, and put 'em high.) 2X
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| Uh uh
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| Engine in the back, no roof-top
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| Feet on gas, with no need for cash, oo oo oooh
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| Trunk in the front, I make a million in a month like pumps in the bumps
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| You know Mason be that very fellow that bring canary yellow
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| Hand, so heavy, that it’s hard to say hello
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| I’m somethin' you got to have like strawberry Jell-o
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| Same jewellery in the hood cause I ain’t scared of the ghetto
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| You know it
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| (Say ohhhh… yeah yeah
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| Hands in the sky, and put 'em high.) 2X |