| Killa, yah
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| And um
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| ‘Bout a half a clip I’m smokin'
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| Rollin' through the city in a full cloud
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| Crack and let the window open
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| The streets could smell as I cruise by
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| Slow-mo cause I’m sipped up
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| One word and get ya bitch fucked
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| I got a million flows, I always switch ‘em up
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| And I never run when it’s fisticuffs
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| Slow-mo, slow-mo, slow-mo is what I’m feelin'
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| Sour smoke, expensive clothes, blowin' O’s as I’m willin'
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| Gettin' poured up wit' Killa
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| Breakin' down 8ths wit' Young L
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| Don’t matter if we really don’t sip at all, we could sell it right back,
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| it’s gon' sell
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| It’s H-town in my town, they cupped up and poured down
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| R.I.P. |
| to DJ Screw, they livin' they lives like yours now
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| As a real nigga, just sip slow
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| A real bitch, let ya nigga know
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| I be high as hell off that rugby or that purple dreams in my videos
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| Everyday we keep rollin' up, gotta get this paper
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| Everyday we keep pourin' up, man I be so faded
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| Everyday we keep rollin' up, gotta get this paper
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| Everyday we keep pourin' up, man I be so faded
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| Every time when you see me, I’m pourin' up them 4's
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| Breathin' in that loud, and blow it out my nose
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| Sittin' next to me, guaranteed is ho’s
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| We all goin' ghost, movin' really slow
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| Every time when you see me, I’m pourin' up them 4's
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| Breathin' in that loud, and blow it out my nose
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| Sittin' next to me, guaranteed is ho’s
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| All goin' ghost, sippin' really slow
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| Spiked lean, I do the right thing
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| I got purple label in my white cup
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| And my red car, wit' my yellow broad
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| On my chrome 4's, and my white guts
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| Gone, full of green, so is my pockets
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| Ball like I hoop for the Houston Rockets
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| Otis Thorpe, I lean to dream
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| I’m comin' down, the king in my Houston Rocket
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| Time machine and it’s loud
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| a woman, pleadin' wit' the crowd
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| My cup double, smokin' on that Keysha
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| I’m catchin' y’all catchin' cabs
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| Me and Neako, serve no Cliquot
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| Fuck that if it’s not sauce or pico
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| We do it big, and y’all do it peephole
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| So when ya girl feed ya, that’s where my piece go
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| Big old necklace’s, I’m on that Texas shit
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| Y’all just practice drills, I’d done perfected it
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| I’m a perfectionist, always wreckin' shit
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| Proto-south flow, I spit fresh shit
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| Y’all just talk bread, I be collectin' it
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| Always on my grind, I got checks to get
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| Yellow and white stones make sure my necklace lit
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| Hottest rappers out, didn’t make the Freshman list
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| Not no freshman though, I am a veteran bro
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| Dropped up off one bitch, seein' who next to blow
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| Sittin' in first class, wit' you in the exit row
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| Get yourself haters, just open the exit door
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| Sittin' sideways, still tippin'
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| Jammin' screw and I’m still sippin'
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| Boy that Big Moe, got me leanin'
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| Eyes closed, now it got me dreamin'
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| Every time when you see me, I’m pourin' up them 4's
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| Breathin' in that loud, and blow it out my nose
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| Sittin' next to me, guaranteed is ho’s
|
| We all goin' ghost, movin' really slow
|
| Every time when you see me, I’m pourin' up them 4's
|
| Breathin' in that loud, and blow it out my nose
|
| Sittin' next to me, guaranteed is ho’s
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| All goin' ghost, sippin' really slow |