| Smoking like a chimney
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| All i know is fire up
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| Whip it like a chemist
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| I’m higher than Mariah
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| Rich to pick them mic up
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| Jackson i’m in the And they let me out for a minute
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| I’m going back in like I left something
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| One of the best of em and I swang like the rest of em
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| And I check some?
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| They suggest us to go broke
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| Cause we finesse them with that dope
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| And they respect the game cause they know
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| East Atlanta made a hood star, Rich Homies who I do it for
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| Was in Bedford palace on?
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| Getting off that work and ima spin it till it’s gone
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| Put a door on the beat I go in on every song
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| I go I go I I go in on every song
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| I’m show stopping, back handing
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| Hitting home runs in batting practice
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| That wood back got cork in it
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| Baking soda got a fork with it
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| She seen how long my check was and she tried to make me her boyfriend?
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| No choice with, i’m endorsed with
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| Gucci, louis my sports gear I stay up like a fork lift
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| I put cameras in the porsche rear
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| With only one bullet I was forced to kill
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| The beat, the instrumental, whatever you call it?
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| I see you bruh, I go in on every song
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| A feature, what I need it for
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| Go in on every song
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| Spit flame in every line
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| Cross my t’s and dot my i’s
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| Shit a’int sweet, we got killers in every spot
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| Rest in peace to d-raw, free my nigga chicken
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| I got a smothered onion Off that Cajun chicken
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| And if your pockets broke let this paper fix it
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| No lights on when my ice on
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| That’ll make me pass out
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| I go in like a closed door |