| Oh shit! |
| Fuck is my watch at?
|
| Shit… what the fuck?
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| Nah man, nah man, hell nah
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| These bitches is frontin
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| The fuck the shit go?
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| Them drug gangstas
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| Yo son, you got my shit?
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| (Nah, son, I ain’t got ya shit)
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| Son you ain’t got my shit?
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| (Nah, nigga, I ain’t got ya shit)
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| Yo, son, my shit is gone
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| (Pah listen, I ain’t got ya shit
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| Lex you sure you ain’t leave it in the.)
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| I started buggin out, fell in the zone, half the bone lit
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| Passed off, rubbin on my ski hat — oh shit!
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| My blunt fell, my watch, you seen it?
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| Gleamin little young fella, he just had the stupidest look, weeded
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| Yo, I’m tired and stressed, hungry and I’m vexed
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| And I’m flippin cause these niggas wanna play me for test
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| Shit fell off ya hand Lord? |
| Stop it, I’m eyein niggas in they faces
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| After that I’m goin at niggas pockets
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| The watch, faggot yeah, y’all niggas got my shit
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| «Yo Lex we family, I helped you cop yo' shit»
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| Then help me find my shit!
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| Eye-ballin every fake Frankie Lymon in the joint
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| Break out, find my shit!
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| Yeah, yo now I got robbed, I smell it
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| Mad bitches walkin' by the fella tryin' to crochet, bitch spell it!
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| Listen trick, be out, bounce
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| Blew an ounce off of weed in the bitch face, she pulled out two white owls
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| «Everybody back the fuck up, move!
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| Chef, you actin' like a loose cannon, Pah, with you and your dudes»
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| If my shit come up, cool
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| Matter of fact, clack-clack-clack-clack, niggas pulled out tools
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| Yo yo yo yo turn the fuckin' lights off
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| Pass the illumin' Lord, tell the DJ turn the fuckin' music off
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| We got announcements, we want y’all to listen clear
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| We just lose about mansion in here
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| And yo eh yo if we don’t get it back it’s gon' be a problem
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| Then my niggas gon' react and that’ll be a problem
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| Eighty-five thou' gone we got a fuckin' problem
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| Ain’t nobody leavin' alive until we find 'em
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| Excuse me, Miss, no I ain’t havin' it
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| I smacked him with the four pound, bitch hit the ground
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| Then I stepped off, dry mouth and shit
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| Equipped with the dipped courdouroy Bailey’s with the cream stitch
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| Powerhouse biscuits that blow roofs off
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| Rae watch is missin', you take ya boots off
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| And take off those chaaaaaiiiiiiinnnns
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| The fat fuck thought I was playin' so I started sprayin
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| Chicks hit the floor, bottles broke
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| The owner slid through beefin', duke threw the toast to his throat
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| We brought the noise like we here to promote
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| My man don’t get his shit in four or five minutes yo we’re leavin' with the vote
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| A gangsta’s lotto, thirteen bodies and still climbin
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| Big shotties, bodied when they sniff body
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| We did our thing too we got to the Envy lobby
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| Our last four or five shots we see nobody
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| Eh yo shit got real that night
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| Power grabbed him, 'Vine smacked him dead in his head
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| (Oh shit, nigga he got a magnum!)
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| Yo we all holdin', rollin
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| Grab a nigga, search him if he front, fuck it, blow him!
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| Watchin' niggas foldin
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| The bartender got a shotgun in his hand
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| Let off, the wheelchair nigga got up and ran
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| Surround the Don, full body armor automatically on
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| The faggots passed off the watch and gone
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| (yo y’all niggas ain’t searchin' shit!)
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| Yo where the big mouth at? |
| Niggas step up
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| Matter of fact nigga, lie the fuck up
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| Nigga tried to swing on G’s but he a gentleman
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| Son, he dropped the dead arm but failed to see it
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| Two shot G’s pealed his meat
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| Let’s see, niggas tried to front like my niggas is weak
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| Corey pulled the truck up, C-4ed this bitch, blew it the fuck up!
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| Niggas’ll use and niggas’ll die in this mothafucka! |