| Yea, baby I’m a certified smacker
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| Plies, Kodak
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| I’m a real deal sniper, ya kna mean?
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| Yea, yea
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| I know y’ain’t never been with no real hitta
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| No real nigga
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| I’m tal’m 'bout like, a nigga that really got a sack though
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| I’m tal’m 'bout like being cuffed by the boss and not the runner (2−3-9−5-4)
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| Yea, dat way
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| Have you ever made love to a real hitta?
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| Yea, a nigga that’s always in the field
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| Probably finessing, probably out here drug dealing
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| I wanna know
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| I’mma love you like I might die tomorrow, aye
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| I’mma love you like I might die tomorrow, aye
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| I’m probably getting money if I ain’t call ya, baby
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| I’m probably getting money if I ain’t call ya, baby
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| I done came back from pissing inside the Trump Hotel
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| 'Fore I take it in, I got to catch me one more sell
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| Name saved up under Febreze, 'cause she ain’t got no smell
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| I can hit it from the back, ain’t got to hold my breath
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| All these hundreds on me got me starting to look like a scammer
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| All that ass she got back there starting to look like a Pamper
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| Pull up on ya ass with a bag just like I’m Santa
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| Plug name Julio but he don’t play for Atlanta
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| The only millionare you know that wear Dope Boy Ree’s
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| You ain’t never fucked a nigga that had this much cheese
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| I’m just tryna run you crazy like they tried Kanye
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| Treat you like the mailman, make you come once a day
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| Have you ever made love to a real hitta?
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| Yeah, a nigga that’s always in the field
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| Probably finessing, probably out here drug dealing
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| I wanna know
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| I’mma love you like I might die tomorrow, aye
|
| I’mma love you like I might die tomorrow, aye
|
| I’m probably getting money if I ain’t call ya, baby
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| I’m probably getting money if I ain’t call ya, baby
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| You know I’m outchea in these streets, I gotta get it
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| If I ain’t on the corner, I’m in the yo, bae I be busy
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| But you gotta pray for me 'cause these niggas be hating in my city
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| And you gotta thank God everyday he be letting you be with me
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| I’mma get in that li’l pussy like I’m just getting outta prison
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| And word around town, he bagged a nigga but he didn’t
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| I’m Sniper Gang baby, I got more stripes than the Navy
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| And ain’t nothing changed because I motherfucking made it
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| I’m a real hitta, I’m a real nigga, I’mma treat you like a lady
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| I’m a real hitta, so every pistol I got it ain’t on safety
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| And if I ain’t call ya back then bae I’m getting to that money
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| But I’mma come through, and I’mma fuck ya like the police looking for me
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| Have you ever made love to a real hitta?
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| Yea, a nigga that’s always in the field
|
| Probably finessing, probably out here drug dealing
|
| I wanna know
|
| I’mma love you like I might die tomorrow, aye
|
| I’mma love you like I might die tomorrow, aye
|
| I’m probably getting money if I ain’t call ya, baby
|
| I’m probably getting money if I ain’t call ya, baby
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| I get ya hair done so much they start to think you a beautician
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| These li’l niggas tryna come up, only reason they diss me
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| Your last man bought you Bebe but I’ll buy you Givenchy
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| Biggest thing he ever did for you was take you to Chili’s
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| Keep a bank in my pocket, call me Plies Fargo
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| Sex game undefeated, think I’m 100−0
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| I don’t go nowhere for free, if you got a check I’ll go
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| Your last man, he was petty, tell him I said so
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| I be hustling so hard I lose track of the days
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| That li’l pussy was so sorry, I call it minimum wage
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| 'Fore you leave this earth baby you better get you a hitta
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| Talking one that got a bag and drop that rod like a killa
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| Yea, I just wanna know
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| Have you ever made love to a real hitta |