| Brrrah, brrrah
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| Brrrah, brrrah
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| Was lil &dumb
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| But no sometimes way dumb
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| My life a gun show, fuck, my life a mess
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| And I grew up with my homies
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| End up seein' you get stretched
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| And my block it ain’t safe
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| Unless you modify your tech
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| They heard every single rumor
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| But they couldn’t say I was that
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| Being mixed with some tags
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| With it, taken off my neck
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| Just some youngins on the block
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| You want smoke, we at your neck
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| We tour just for our respect
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| Tip a nigga you never met
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| C&in' out, we meet at ten
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| Ring my gangsta outta ten
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| That my lawyer beat my case
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| And also thank to judge
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| But every time they Google my name
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| They gon' say that kid was fucked
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| Police gon' try plant a gun on a nigga like al capone
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| And just not to cought me melo
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| Feelin' like I’m etika, melo
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| I cought these shoes Margiela
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| This fifth kick like Marcelo
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| Lamborghini hard yellow
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| We might get too white yellow
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| We pop it like hot hallow
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| Shoot a nigga on pedos
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| He done got his face riddled
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| We was tough from so little
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| Was little and dumb
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| But knows when times were dumb
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| The trap goin' dumb
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| Grand churches go make a duck
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| Trap house full of dubs
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| Cuff a pack right 'fore it’s done
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| That door to hear
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| Was young right clips with a god
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| Was young sellin' drugs
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| But knows when hands get mud (brrrrah)
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| Was knowin' so low
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| Sold to fourteen none shows up
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| Atlanta, John (Johnson)
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| Neighborhood cop
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| I do this for bro (sav)
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| Tdub stay knowin' with bruh (sav)
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| Sav, post came with my right hand man
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| I swear I’m not gettin' back (Wassi)
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| Fuck the opps know I got a mack (mack)
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| Shoot him in his back (blah)
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| Put it all in your back (nigga)
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| I fell in love with the swag
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| That drip come from outta pan
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| I put my block on the map (map)
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| I swear I ain’t talkin' about rap (no)
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| These bullets will make you step back (back)
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| Like Harden (James)
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| My mama still waitin' on a apartment
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| I ain’t here took no artist
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| Jury just raise a market
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| Google me, I got articles
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| I read all of 'em, these bullets stay rain 'em pour
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| Put glizzies in the jaw we gotta smoke 'em more
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| This gang a fuel war, tell me rip your card
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| Put glizzies in the jaw, tell me rip your card
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| Was little and dumb
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| But knows when times were dumb
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| The trap goin' dumb
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| Grand churches go make a duck
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| Trap house full of dubs
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| Cuff a pack right 'fore it’s done
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| That door to hear
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| Was young right clips with a god
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| Was young sellin' drugs
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| But knows when hands get mud (brrrrah)
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| Was knowin' so low
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| Sold to fourteen none shows up
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| Atlanta, John (Johnson)
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| Neighborhood cop
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| I do this for bro (sav)
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| Tdub stay knowin' with bruh (sav)
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| Uh, y’know
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| Long live Wassi
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| You feel me
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| We was young
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| You don’t know
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| I’m still with cro
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| You feel me
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| Trap house to trap house
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| Bando to bando
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| Trapper to a trapper
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| You know I mean
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| You niggas ain’t in the field and shit
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| Ya feel me?
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| We really do this man
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| Shoutout to all the real niggas on the north and shit
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| Gang shit, nigga |