| Flyyy, heyy, hey
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| I Got dat trunk craked windows tinted, trunk craked windows tinted
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| Slowly rollin I’m banging screw
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| Slowly rollin I’m banging screw
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| Comin down so fly-y-y-y
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| Smokin leaf so high-i-i-i
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| Slowly rollin I’m banging screw,
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| Slowly rollin I’m banginig screw.
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| What it do it’s paul to the wall,
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| Chunk up tall, let the 4 screens fall,
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| Spider’s crawl gon turn up that dial and make they heads all
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| nodd like a bobble head doll,
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| Bendin corners up and down wayside,
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| From greens road to that antoine drive,
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| Crew on da side playin nba live,
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| I’m too cool for school ridin on buckhide,
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| Turnin heads when I’m on dat scott
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| Hit that french’s for a quick pit stop,
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| Boys in the mail talkin bout they on top,
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| 8 Months later all them boys flop.
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| Like it or not I’m the game and I’m showin up, keke got dat oil and we pourin
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| up,
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| Hit the club wit captain jack and big steve representin my hood still throwin
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| up.
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| Big money in the gang as the bread grow,
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| Candy old school drop top for the low,
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| Boys used to be sleepin on me but the champ is here
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| I gaurantee that they ass woke,
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| Ridin on spoke, dats the elbow, still rockin in da ice white shell toe,
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| Dis for my boys by dat kelso and you already know.
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| Yeah, I’m still on that five-9,
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| But might see me on that five-8 comin down,
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| All over the town I like to get around,
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| Jammin my fat pat screwed up underground,
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| Comin down in the lime green eighty eight,
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| While them boys on the sideline wanna hate,
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| Bump a kid for fuckin up the state plate,
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| I Must admit my life’s great,
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| T-Farris wit me in the snowbunny benz,
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| Lookin through a louey lens and we stackin up ends,
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| Bros over hoes yea I’m talkin bout friends,
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| Got freedom on my arm for my dawg lil twin,
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| Dubs on the rim that’s t.i.s,
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| Just like pretty Todd I’m g-boy fresh,
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| Got oil comin in and it’s strait from da west,
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| And grill throwin mesh on the cadillac crest,
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| Head of the best I ain’t messin wit da rest,
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| Santa clause sled thats pomegranite red,
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| Sippin that taste i take it straight to da head,
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| And dat swisha house is wat I rep till I’m dead.
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| Im tippin fo’s and I’m sippin fo’s and I’m flippin hos with my partner clue,
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| Posted up at dat TSU or dat Prarie View wit my patna Lew-
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| Hawk, boys get outlined in chalk,
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| Tryin to run up and jack my slab,
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| This one here for my boy lil kee I’m throwin duece up and gettin boys dab,
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| Pourin da juice up and grippin that ab,
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| Wavein hoods so the base showcase
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| Settin the trends steady choppin up wind with a diamond ice grin,
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| that paper I chase,
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| Taper fade by that bad boy shop,
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| Tippin slow I’m screwed up and chopped,
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| Listening to some of that bobby merl, them choppaholics, maybe that michael
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| watts,
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| Choppin the block up, holdin a full cup,
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| Breakin a strut, now I’m on them swangs,
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| Grill and woman popped trunk full of bang,
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| I’m third coast raised and I’m drippin stains,
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| Im hittin stank tryin to break that bread,
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| Slowed and throwed till the day I’m diseased,
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| Leaning tuff, i got cup full of stuff with a starched crease
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| and a johnny dang peice. |