| How them niggas say Lil Quin was duckin'? |
| That shit make-believe
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| This XD, it fit in my hand, huh, you’re partner a fan, huh
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| Got no words for the opps, we grab this chop and start sayin' somethin'
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| Push up, clap your mans, won’t see him stand when ambulance come (Yeah)
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| Shooter like Ray Allen, see your partner, that’s a And1
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| We gon' blow the witness, uh, my dawg still on a sentence, yeah (Bitch)
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| Get up close with no mask, motherfuck a social distance, yeah (Bah-bah-bah-bah)
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| Don’t do no attempts, shoot off the rip, we known to finish, yeah (Blrrt, blrrt)
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| I be doing my thing inside the gang, they known to scrimmage, yeah (I'm ballin')
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| Hit too many niggas hoes, my shit passed double digits, yeah (It is)
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| They be throwin' salt, tryna put slugs all on my image, yeah (Bitch)
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| And I don’t want the hoe unless her noggin comin' with it, yeah (Noggin)
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| He had a bad day, I sent lil' bro now he uplifted, yeah (He did)
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| All I got bad intentions, flip the block without no skillet, yeah (We flip it)
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| Baby Glock hold thirty shots the clip blacker than brisket, yeah (Bah-bah-bah)
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| All these racks, it look like tennis, Elvis on my pendant, yeah (It is)
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| And lil' bro pop them Roxy, out his body he was trippin', yeah (Uh, trippin',
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| trippin')
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| I was reminiscin' 'bout when me and bro was with it (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| We just spent a- (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| Hey, straight down the rocks and bitches gon' be bitches (Yeah, yeah)
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| Every time I tell him something- (Grrah, yeah, yeah)
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| Don’t want to talk it ain’t about guap, I’m strickly about business (Yeah, guap)
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| Don’t talk to that lil' thot, I’m in her mouth just like a dentist
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| I can’t switch up on my clique but all my Glocks be having switches (Glock,
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| bah-bah)
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| Pouring Wok just lick a chemist (Wok), I spent thirty on my tennis (Bah)
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| I be flexin' hardest platinum artist, CJ independent (Independent)
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| I put fifty on my carbon, all my clips, they get extended (Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew)
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| Back in school I was selling bars, I caught a charge, you got suspended
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| Nigga ain’t never pulled my card, when it comes to war, nigga, we spinning, ayy
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| Before I let a nigga play me, judge gon give me a life sentence (I swear)
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| Slanging a K, but we quick to pull up on opps, go to throwing bullets like
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| Emmet (Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew-pew)
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| Chop got two titties like women (Titties), I can’t loose I like winning (Love)
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| These niggas sweet just like lemon (They sweet), I got P’s I got plenty (I got
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| plenty)
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| I got P’s just like Diddy (I swear), I got keys to my city (Keys)
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| I don’t like features but I like money, do I like to meet niggas?
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| Not really (Nah)
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| We love danger, lil' bro’ll, 'boutta put a weak nigga in the belly
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| I don’t talk to strangers, I don’t like to play and I’ma send a nigga ass to
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| the (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
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| No matter where I’m at a chopstick with me like I’m made in China
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| I got a bitch that work a Neiman’s, I get deals on my designer
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| I walk around with all this paper, I might need to buy a binder
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| It ain’t no pressure about no nigga, we lay shit out like recliner
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| I stay on point like Jason Kenny, keep a Glock like Carl Tanner
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| And I ain’t weighing up no chicken, but I got nuggets by the pound
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| My momma knew I was a gangster when they did a ultrasound
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| And they gon' think this fight was rigged the way I’m blowing all these rounds
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| If they ain’t paying up and they supposed to pay then I’m on they ass like Doja
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| We was just fucked up sleeping on the floor trying to put together our dough
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| We swing hammers like Judge Judy
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| I got a few spots like Scooby
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| We got big guap like Gucci
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| I got drumsticks like Ruby
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| Bitch we ain’t have no pot to cook our grits, so where you think we peed
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| I feel like Jordan 1996 this shit don’t make no scene
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| I really wasn’t a fan of taking shit, but we was taking risks
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| We chopping cooking pork we turn his bacon into bacon grease
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| As long as I’m alive my pockets gon be filled with dead boys
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| I walk around with big old bags but I am not a bell boy
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| Can’t go nowhere without my fire like I’m Lil 2z Hellboy
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| 'Cause when it’s mister nasty time this Draco Uncle Elroy
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| While I’m smoking OG cooking nuggets big as Chips Ahoy
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| Might hit the trap and box and 'cause I can beat the pack like Floyd
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| I’m in and then I’m out of there you might not hear from me no more
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| I call this bitch up once a week she clean this dick up like a chore
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| We tote duces like Chris Breezy
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| And my Drac' blacker than Weezy
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| Bitch got a ass tat say fee
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| I got a big gut like P
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| I got a problem I can’t stop it
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| I like money I keep feinding
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| I keep nachos in my pocket cause them shits is always cheesy
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| It’s too cold so I can’t move without my heat like
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| All my guns got big old buckles on them like I’m pootie tang
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| I get a rest from all this shot when I shoot dope up in my vanes
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| And my bro still be serving chickens nigga shoulda worked that cane |