| Gang, baow, baow, baow, baow, ayy
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| Hold on, ayy, ayy, hold on, gang
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| Hold on, hold on
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| I swear to god I ain’t ever had luck
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| Feeling like 'Pac how we hitting niggas up
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| And we in the four with them sticks in the truck
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| Talking about beef, and he blitzin' or what?
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| Chanel on my sneaks, is he crippin' or what?
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| She say she like when I grip on her butt
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| Play with her, she gon' die, we be tripping for nothing
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| Bust down the Rollie, a two tone
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| She a thot, I’ma pop with my shoes on
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| It be feeling so right when I do wrong
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| Niggas sleeping on Quin, tell them, «Snooze on»
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| I been trapping too hard got a new phone
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| 'Cause I ain’t got time for the feds, nigga
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| Nigga play with that gang, he a dead nigga
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| Have him holding his heart like the pledge, nigga
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| Send a whole lot of shots, we gon' slide like a Visa
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| Riding foreign with my bitch, we both got us a Bimmer
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| And these niggas flock, tryna cop my demeanor
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| Try to run in the trap and get ran like fajitas
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| We got a whole lot of shots, Tequila
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| Playing with a whole lot of racks, Serena
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| She know I’m rich, she pick up when I need her
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| Rocking Dior, but the Prada look cleaner
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| I been on guala since I was a toddler
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| Refuse to step out unless I’m rocking designer
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| She wanna fuck cause she know I’m a problem
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| I came out the four and I’m strapped with the chopper
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| Teed up, we tryna shoot at niggas' mamas
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| We gon' take a four if you start up that drama
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| Came from the block, I was deep with my partners
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| Now we in LA tryna eat on some pasta
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| We upping the shots, he gon' need him a doctor
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| Tvo throwing G’s with some G’s on his collar
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| I’m tired of the ratchets I need me a rider
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| Got a whole lot of cheese, need the whole enchilada
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| He made a diss but ain’t go with his morgue
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| Heard he dropped the bag, come and get it approved
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| Cause he want some beef, it’s gon' end on the news
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| I be rolling up Runtz to go land on the moon
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| I’m gone, hold on, hold on
|
| I swear to god I ain’t ever had luck
|
| Feeling like 'Pac how we hitting niggas up
|
| And we in the four with them sticks in the truck
|
| Talking about beef, and he blitzin' or what?
|
| Chanel on my sneaks, is he crippin' or what?
|
| She say she like when I grip on her butt
|
| Play with her, she gon' die, we be tripping for nothing
|
| Bust down the Rollie, a two tone
|
| She a thot, I’ma pop with my shoes on
|
| It be feeling so right when I do wrong
|
| Niggas sleeping on Quin, tell them, «Snooze on»
|
| I been trapping too hard got a new phone
|
| 'Cause I ain’t got time for the feds, nigga
|
| Nigga play with that gang, he a dead nigga
|
| Have him holding his heart like the pledge, nigga
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| Damn
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| Hold on, hold on, oh
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| Riding around town
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| Playing around with us
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| Talking about nothing, another one down
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| Fucking around with us, you get shot, popped
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| I’m Chris Brown
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| Nigga play around, we gon' hunt him down
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| I’m in the four, tryna, hold on |