| It’s a simple question, do you got it or not?
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| I been talkin' to God 'bout the garages for the crib that I still haven’t bought
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| Boat rockin', my thoughts goin' too fast
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| I’m not rational, I need the '42 on the rocks, wait, uh
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| I’m the ambassador, meanin' I gas up the land I came from
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| Make it rain and the money lookin' like ransoms
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| And my brain always steady demandin' answers
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| I’ve been feeling like I’m fightin' with my thoughts
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| And the motherfucker benchin' a lot
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| Punchin' the bag while he listenin' to «The Box»
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| Uh-uh, I’m 'bout to get my shit rocked
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| Uh-uh, I need to call up my pops
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| I’m killin' the pain, I’m feelin' the change
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| I’m a villain to ones that wanna shit on my name
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| You better think twice about the moves that you make
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| When your heart is closed, man, the truth is erased
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| Ayy, don’t disturb, I’m in the booth, ayy
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| My neck shiny like my tooth, ayy
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| Your bitch tryna reproduce, ayy
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| DMs open, I’ma shoot, uh
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| Don’t disturb, I’m in the booth, ayy
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| My neck shiny like my tooth, ayy
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| Your bitch tryna reproduce, ayy
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| DMs open, I’ma—
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| I got options, lil' bitch, you do not know where I been
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| France, 7 AM, I’m a fan of ménages
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| Landed up in Japan, fill my body with toxins
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| More of the reason to leave my inhibitions
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| I’m breathin' in tobacco smoke
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| I eat the roach and then I do my deepest stroke
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| I’m 'bout to run a mile on these bitches
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| I’m chiropractin' to crack smiles on these bitches
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| I’m twenty-one, tryna make nine, ten milly
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| I’m twenty-nine, crib 'bout size of the Pentagon
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| Just got the shoes as red as filet mignon
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| Coochie got magic, I thought she was Hermion
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| Uh, I meant Hermione, uh
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| Switchin' environment, I’m feelin' uninspired
|
| What’s better, a sip of gin or findin' my soul and clarity?
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| I’m buryin' my sins, the blessing is all my evidence, ayy
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| I’m a business man without a business plan
|
| Racks on Planet Fitness, abracadabra
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| No, Illuminati ain’t the mantra, uh
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| I ain’t fuckin' you unless it’s tantric
|
| Gotta walk out slowly, I’m usually dramatic
|
| I’ma raw dog life, I ain’t doin' no habits
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| I’m a star from the start, they be callin' me Patrick
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| In a white girl mouth like a giant tarantula
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| Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
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| Ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah, ayy, yeah
|
| Uh
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| I been dealin' with some wack-ass motherfuckers thinkin' they can backstab
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| Make 'em feel the pain like I’m in Jackass
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| Hit it, I’m livin', I’m rippin' out the page
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| They been askin' where the raps at
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| I don’t need the bread, I’ma give it to the fam
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| Get the job done like TaskRabbit
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| Puff on the gas, I cannot find the passion
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| On my Cash App every day lookin' at coins like
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| «What am I doin'?» |
| like, «Where do I go?»
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| Man, I really gotta get the right dose
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| You really gotta come to my shows when this shit is open
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| Rock the Chanel like my name Frank Ocean
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| I dress well, you on that VLONE shit
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| I’m payin' all the bills, though
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| Money been multiplyin' like a nympho
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| Do I really need a crib on the hills, though?
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| It’s probably gon' be good for my mental
|
| I pop out, man, I was a dropout
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| Whip louder than the rappers arguing on Clubhouse
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| I’ma throw the hands whenever I go on a run now
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| Wanna start, but don’t know when to do it like I’m Bow Wow
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| Stop the hate, just walk away, lil' bitch
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| They gon' make it home and see the kids
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| I’m awake and I ain’t duckin' now
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| Peace and quiet shit runnin' out of style
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| Ma callin' up like stay home
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| Fuck the sessions that you got, tell 'em you can’t make the drive
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| They sprayin' on a bad day
|
| Saw that damn quote, I don’t know if I got 911 to dial
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| This shit done made me cry
|
| Man, this shit ain’t civilized
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| I ain’t born to die
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| I need to stay a while
|
| I need to stay a while
|
| I ain’t born to die |