| I let you into my diary to admire me
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| The make up of this man, I let you see the higher me
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| The self righteous drug dealer dichotomy
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| I’m drawing from both sides, I am Siamese
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| The tug of war opens the door, entrada
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| Rip me apart and see what’s inside of this piñata
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| And rolling kilos in Gymstrada that’s one saga
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| One chapter of black magic, I’m Harold potter
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| Feels like I’m doomed to dealing with women who
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| Relationships with their fathers won’t allow us to bloom
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| And blossom, I swear them Vegas nights was f*cking awesome
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| But adiós I blow my own dice before I toss 'em
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| Lost some n*ggas some other n*ggas double crossed 'em
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| Trying snatch my n*ggas back I blew a small fortune
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| Wrestle with the work, we was like the four horsemen
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| Rick Flair with the flame, I’m mother f*cking Gorgeous, woah
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| As the gull wing doors lift, Karate Kid, crane kick, no Jaden Smith
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| Whiter than that coke brush that they paint me with
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| Sunk leather seats softer than an angels kiss
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| But they devil red, tires double tread
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| I post and parks up. |
| that gets me double head
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| Tight rope walking tryna keep a level head
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| The bright lights blind look at what the devil did
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| She left the door open gave a f*ck if I’m famous
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| I write this alone in Vegas
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| Came off fly street money partied nights with the a-list
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| I write this alone in Vegas
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| Remember nights when my team blew it all on the tables
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| I write this alone in Vegas
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| I’m the only one left and the memories fading so
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| I write this alone in Vegas
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| They’ll do everything in their power
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| Stomp me the stove when you rising like flour
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| Make your cake fall when you threatening their tower
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| Its 911 you on your 25th hour
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| Hasta la vista I’m steppin' out the bleachers
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| How the tide turns when the pupils now the teacher
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| The game can’t go by just followin the leaders
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| You gotta be better than the ones who precede yah
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| Upgrade them
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| Upstage them
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| Change the whole body shape and just update them
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| Pagans
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| Reagan era I ran contraband
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| Money caused turf wars through the promised land
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| First time being rich could be a common man
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| The Guy Fishers had the blueprints and diagrams
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| We just took what we needed and we built on it
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| Lord forgive me for the blood that I spilt on it
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| She left the door open gave a f*ck if I’m famous
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| I write this alone in Vegas
|
| Came off fly street money partied nights with the a-list
|
| I write this alone in Vegas
|
| Remember nights when my team blew it all on the tables
|
| I write this alone in Vegas
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| I’m the only one left and the memories fading so
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| I write this alone in Vegas
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| Fear of God n*ggas
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| Got me feelin' like Pac
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| This the realest sh*t I ever wrote
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| Who you know sit in New York for 2 days around Grammy winners
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| Come back home straight to the money getters
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| About $ 14,000 dollars worth in 20s
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| Brown paper bag money
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| Yeah, I call that a good weekend
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| Re-up gang forever
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| Long live the king coming soon
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| Malice my brother I love you
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| Liva-Don, till the end n*gga |