| I woke up in the morning with my dick in my hand
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| Morning wood God damn
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| Then I brush my teeth
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| I take a shower, then I eat and hit the spot
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| Put on a fresh new fit
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| Now I’m fly walking with a bop
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| Grab the wop
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| Place it on my hip, never slip
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| I heard you talking shit
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| But when you answer have the same energy
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| Don’t answer if the call unknown
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| Never Android I be on the iPhone
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| I’m still the king of the underground
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| Don’t fuck around
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| Gotta get rid of me if you want the crown
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| Lotta styles
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| Before release date I get the sneakers
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| Used to weigh my work on a scale like a libra
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| None of ya’ll lames can fuck with Pap
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| Call 'em savages and tell 'em that God’s back
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| I used to ride the train with a token
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| Now I’m in the droptop
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| You niggas see me how I’m rolling
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| This is where New York city begins
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| Cuban links, Yankee fitted hats and Timbs
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| Pot holes but we still ride rims
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| Every borough got beef, we ain’t got no friends
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| Dope in the rice, Uncle Bens
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| Doing pullups on a pole, we ain’t got no gym
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| Out of towners tell 'em come on in
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| Lay 'em in a blood pool hope you niggas can swim
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| That Flex freestyle opened the door, I made an entrance
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| Operation get hot again, my favorite mission
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| The rappers at the top of the game afraid to listen
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| Cause their entire discography just ain’t convincing
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| You mumble rappers ain’t payed your dues, pay admission
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| If you ain’t got it just pay half, I pay the difference
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| Gun game they play it nice, I play it wicked
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| Niggas know I stay with the Smith like Jada Pinkett
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| Sneaking niggas think just because they creeps
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| They could outsmart real niggas, fuck they think
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| I leave him laying in his wake on a Monday sleep
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| For coming at me sideways on a oneway street
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| Niggas think that cause they be working out that they could bitch cats
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| You think you could stop a bullet with your six pack
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| And I heard he be telling
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| Man I ain’t with that
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| He work out and he snitch
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| Guess that make him a gym rat
|
| This is where New York city begins
|
| Cuban links, Yankee fitted hats and Timbs
|
| Pot holes but we still ride rims
|
| Every borough got beef, we ain’t got no friends
|
| Dope in the rice, Uncle Bens
|
| Doing pullups on a pole, we ain’t got no gym
|
| Out of towners tell 'em come on in
|
| Lay 'em in a blood pool hope you niggas can swim |