| Nine shots in the Ruger
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| I step on any fuckin' court
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| They like watch the shooter
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| I’m in the streets duckin' the law, they tellin' me stay focused
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| All on my dick, they smile in my face but want me to lose they stay hopin'
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| Niggas don’t comment just they throw salt on my name when they scrollin'
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| Ran threw them bitchs they open
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| She in the crib but her legs open
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| See them niggas mad, but they never say nothin'
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| I get a bag I know they hate somethin'
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| Bitches is trash so I never chase them
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| See them in person and they always
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| I do the dash I’m racin'
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| Came for the cash
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| Can’t post on the Ave
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| They know that I’m mad impatient
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| They wanna brag
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| I sit back and laugh
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| I got off my ass they waitin'
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| Word to my mother we started this
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| Duece in the booth so we brought it in
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| Pray that we get him, shots Imma send 'em if we do not him they targeted
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| Know they pray on my downfall
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| They in love with them bitches, but we fuck 'em good so they come around more
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| Imma keep ballin' on niggas, ain’t no way I’m stopping I shot till game over
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| All of this money coming I’m coming across, swearin' I can not stay sober
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| We get cash, peso
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| Shoot up the town, and stay low
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| Let off a round, Draco
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| Them niggas mad but, they know
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| Imma keep ballin' on niggas, ain’t no way I’m stopping I shot till game over
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| All of this money coming I’m coming across, swearin' I can not stay sober
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| We get cash, peso
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| Shoot up the town, and stay low
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| Let off a round, Draco
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| Them niggas mad but, they know
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| Had to get back in my element, feel like I got back in my zone now
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| I do not care bout the extra shit, once I hit I be like leave me alone now
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| Fuckin' on his bitch, if she don’t belong to me, get it on camera to phone out
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| If you see them in Bally’s wit gang, nine times outta ten them bitches got
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| flown out
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| Shit I got my funds up, these niggas babies I pray they go pick a gun up
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| Don’t make me the reason you gotta eat food through a straw, can’t pick your son
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| The niggas the run-up you will get bun up, spot him then he gettin' bum-rushed
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| Strippers they love us fillin' the cup up, shake it while she pickin' ones up
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| Lookin' for smoke, yea I’m wit it I’m giving it out like I work in a weed shop
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| Pull up to the show we like twenty or better, we snuck in this bitch with like
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| three chops
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| Got rid of my old bitch, when I’m on the phone doing business she stay try to
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| eavesdrop
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| If she fuckin' I get her some red bottoms, if ain’t Imma put her in Reebok
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| Told me my shit the heat rock, I got the streets locked
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| Shoot him, and hope his heartbeat stop
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| Still on them east blocks, makin' the street hot
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| Ain’t hittin', if she ain’t giving me top
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| Know they want me shot
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| They know that I keep Glocks, might have to shoot up your G ride
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| They know how we flock
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| They still didn’t get back, that siht happened to them like three times
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| Imma keep ballin' on niggas, ain’t no way I’m stopping I shot till game over
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| All of this money coming I’m coming across, swearin' I can not stay sober
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| We get cash, peso
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| Shoot up the town, and stay low
|
| Let off a round, Draco
|
| Them niggas mad but, they know
|
| Imma keep ballin' on niggas, ain’t no way I’m stopping I shot till game over
|
| All of this money coming I’m coming across, swearin' I can not stay sober
|
| We get cash, peso
|
| Shoot up the town, and stay low
|
| Let off a round, Draco
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| Them niggas mad but, they know |