| Biatch, I see you standin in the window, fiendin
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| One o’clock at night a nigga high and baby fiendin
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| You made it a muthafuckin daily routine
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| To blow me up, but I ain’t callin less I wanna get my dick (ah)
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| Oh yeah I got the present,? |
| for the kicks y’all
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| Get a carter coat to go with that and I might stay fo awhile
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| Niggero gotcha fiendin for the flavor of dick
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| Gotcha cravin it, even gotcha tastin
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| The shit was simple when I fucked you on the first date
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| Damn you must of known I’d go up in ya cus you had on that lace
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| That night, hooker, I ain’t forgot the thick brown ass
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| But I’ll just hit it when I want, yeah I like the way ya fuck
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| (Then why you never call?)
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| Cus I be stuck in traffic, or handlin business
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| Why you give me static bout it
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| Ya know you ain’t the only one so what ya trippin ho
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| Youre fiendin for the deuce-nine dick
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| And fuckin my homie from the four ya know
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| Ya treatin me so bad
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| And I wanna know why
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| Why did ya do me this way, baby
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| I wanna know why
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| Why, why did ya treat me so bad
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| Whoooooa, I wanna know why |
| Why did ya treat me, treat me
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| Treat me, baaaaaad
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| Why did ya treat me so bad
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| Well I’m so high off this chronic shit
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| I bumped my head on a helicopter
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| And I ain’t knowin what to tell my doctor
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| A couple of hits’ll have yout fiendin 24 street dick
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| The night-stalker from the fo'
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| Lose a hoe, bruise a ho
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| Do ya hoe cus if ya do I’ll put you up
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| We’ll make some g’s up out of a momo ho
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| All the free dope you wanna smoke
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| And if I come up short, I’ll let you meet my mini mac 1−0
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| Cus in the gardens where the chronic grows
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| We stay high, way high, bitch what you think
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| I keep my skrilla up in the bank so ain’t no gank
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| So fuck me or feed me or you don’t need me
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| Find your BG, kickin it with my YG’s
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| And we just gettin high of this chronic shit
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| Bumpin heads on the helicopter
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| And we not knowin what to tell our doctor
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| A couple of hits’ll have ya fiendin 24 street dick
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| And break em off proper
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| Now tell me how many joints can ya smoke to this nigga
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| And how many biatches will suck my dick
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| Take a hit, take a hit, then you pass the shit |
| Get to coughin eyes water, why you fuckin with the chronic
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| Cus we dip front to back, and my locos ride
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| Bumpin season of the sicc, switchin side to side
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| Now let me slide to some gangsta shit
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| Bout a biatch that we was switchin fo the fuck of it
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| And never had to claim that trick
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| Blaze some weed, gettin paid from the sucka
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| And when a nigga leave, pass a homie on his way to fuck her yeeah
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| Had the bitch down for the calls in fact
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| Had the muthafucka straightup macked
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| And thats right bitch, you know me
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| Runnin that shit like so much pimp
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| Some nigga got mad and went to the pad for the mac
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| But didn’t know, I packed a forty-fo
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| Ho, remember when you touched me on my dick and said
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| Oh! |
| Yo shit’s a rock, but you didn’t know
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| You touched the barrel of a forty-fo
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| Fo in the mornin, ho you was at my door
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| And I’m knowin these raggety hoes, so bitch
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| You know I know you was at my locc’s house
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| Fuck the bullshit, ho
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| Cus we know, we got ya fiendin
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| 24 and 29 street dick |