| Plenty more for you, boy
|
| We in the funky four door, no floor
|
| Hit me on the celly, watching Belly
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| God, son, I can see they study MaKaveli
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| Peanut butter Benz, got the jelly at the deli
|
| If you feeling like a ninja I got a machete
|
| Hell yeah, them girls bad, but I’m fucking heavy
|
| I’mma fuck around and have them looking like spaghetti
|
| I say some shit, he be like, «Yo, you so legendary»
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| But he can tell just by my face he ain’t getting any
|
| Plenty more for you, boy
|
| We in the funky four door, no floor
|
| He was serving that raw, oh boy
|
| She was making that noise, oh boy
|
| Meet me at the Rucker, take the Bruckner
|
| It’s just me and young yucka, take you suckers
|
| For their money and their whips, putting kitten on lips
|
| Dividing the dividends, get the money and dip
|
| Key’s to the nigga’s safe, put it under my tits
|
| He got keys to that Roy, it could fit in the six
|
| Got a UPS connect, so we good on them trips
|
| Automatic bottle service so we good in them VIPs, nigga
|
| These civilians, what up nigga? |
| Excuse my millions
|
| I’m in the V like a widow’s peak
|
| It’s just me and my Rolls Royce pillow seats
|
| Why they staring at me? |
| I brung MacLaren with me
|
| Yo, matter of fact, I think I’mma bring Donna Karan with me
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| And you my son, I don’t know, it’s just the parent in me
|
| I am the best, I am the queen, it’s so apparent it me
|
| I’m in Hollywood with Shia Labeouf
|
| Most of you rappers ain’t eating, that diet is rough
|
| You want some hot shit? |
| Send that wire to us
|
| I make them change their name to Diddy, retire the puff
|
| I’m getting acting money
|
| You niggas is Kevin Hart, y’all be acting funny
|
| I’mma a keep a linebacker, tell 'em tackle for me
|
| Yo, you seen my last pic, go double-tap that for me
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| Cock back, Red octagon, stop that |