| Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that’s 'bout a hundred rods
|
| Jump Out Gang leave 'em stretched, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah
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| Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off
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| That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul
|
| Not sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha)
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| Kiyah, that’s my new bitch, I got her some blue shit
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| See what I’m sayin', I got the blueprint
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| Amiri denim dripping with it, cost me you can’t fucking pay
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| Shot up my ex behind the ceiling 'cause this bitch don’t love me, nigga
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| Shots fired off right by the building, I advised you not to play
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| .556 and .308 rip up they block, then you get paid
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| New four-five Glock like Jump Out shake, that JOG, I’m Jump Out Gang
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| We break 'em down and bag 'em up, ran up a hundred in a day
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| Four in the morning, me and Buddha, all my jewelry on the haste
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| Lil' shawty fuck, she love to rock my blue bandana 'round her face
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| Full master foreign, roll that opp pack in the air straight to the face
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| Backseat, I’m snorting off a Xanax, plus some pint of purple maple
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| That’s my lil' homie on the corner serving rocks and bangin' A
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| Fans, they be trollin' like we hiding but we out totin' on eights
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| Mercedes stolen bend they block, then let off shots that new AK
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| I’m sipping potion, roll another dead opp straight to the face
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| I’m rockin' Comme des Garçons, got fed up, then caught a case
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| I bet that you won’t make it home, his head bust and you get paid
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| Drag-drag racin' in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS')
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| We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha)
|
| Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that’s 'bout a hundred rods
|
| Jump Out Gang leave 'em stretched, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah
|
| Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off
|
| That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul
|
| Not sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha)
|
| Kiyah, that’s my new bitch, I got her some blue shit with us
|
| See what I’m sayin', I got the blueprint
|
| You know Lil Timmy really 'bout it, I be tryna tell him chill
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| Got all these Perkies in my body, wildin', fuck it, pop a pill
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| Don’t even go inside the projects since Lil JaJa, he got killed
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| I bet that bitch go blocker, blocker, all these stocks inside my steel
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| You know lil' JumpOutBlacc be driving by like, you might just get killed
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| Ju-ju-jump out with them straps, I’m styling, Balmain on my heels
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| Rollin' that pressure 'til he drop, we got 'em all, run up a mil'
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| I’m like the boss man on my section, rip that codeine out the seal
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| My family filled up with straight dope fiends and it’s been like that for years
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| I’m such a stupid motherfucker, why the fuck they gave me Ms?
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| We tote them guns and empty clips, big murder one, I’m from 'em Crips
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| Bro wonder, «Quan, he grip the witters?» |
| It’s just the fucking life I live
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| (Boom, bah, skrrt)
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| Oh-oh, he Rollin' (Baow)
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| Black rock through the cut, hundred round tryna rip them open (Baow)
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| Corner store, we let him post up, now he fully loaded (Ah)
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| Thirty in my magazine, that shoot it out if I approach 'em
|
| Drag-drag racin' in a Hellcat like a NASCAR (NAS')
|
| We be on some motion (Ha), run out, knock a fan off (Ha)
|
| Audemars baguettes, you get 'em whacked, that’s 'bout a hundred rods
|
| Jump Out Gang leave 'em stretched, I bet that choppa shoot a hundred, yah
|
| Two fifties on this MAC, all black, we gon' knock 'em off
|
| That lil' nigga on some Loc shit (Clatt), two hundred bottom of the soul
|
| Not sorry that I got attached to Promethazine and Adderall (Ha, ha)
|
| Kiyah, that’s my new bitch, I got her some blue shit
|
| See what I’m sayin', I got the blueprint |