| Yes, aha, yes, aha
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| That’s right
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| Me personally
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| I just start, just started driving
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| Congratulations
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| Thank you very much
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| This song is just like
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| For them days you just cruisin', kickin' it with your boys
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| Clowin', whatever
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| Crenshaw, whatever your little street is or whatever
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| It’s like this
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| It’s like you sippin' bourbon slow
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| Swervin' low in your seat, nowhere to go
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| Windows low because the heat, ho, what you know?
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| There go your folks right up the street, you slow your roll
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| They all hop in, y’all go and eat, you shoot the breeze
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| On how the homie just got clowned by some B’s
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| He spit his game, they shot him down and with ease
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| And now he’s makin' up excuses, nigga please
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| This happens every time we out, now close your mouth
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| Always lyin' on some shit, what’s that about?
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| We your boys, and we got love no matter what
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| Now put your seat belt on, sit back and shut up!
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| Oh, turn that up that shit is knockin', that’s my cut
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| Two 15's up in the trunk, we ain’t no punks
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| Heard us comin' blocks away playin' slump
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| Thought it was an earthquake your heart sunk
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| Look here’s some niggas in a Cutlass, what a punk
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| Throwin' up some gang signs, I just ignore it
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| And when the light turns green, I simply floor it (See ya)
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| Left them suckers at the light feelin' dumb
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| Fightin' over fingers and thumbs, I ain’t the one
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| Call me a buster or a mark if you choose it
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| But at least I’ll be alive makin' music
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| I said at least I’ll be alive makin' music
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| Bitch, just cruisin', cruisin'
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| Baby, let’s cruise, away from here |