| All the hatin' ain’t gonna get you paid
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| All they talking gonna get you laid
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| Sell you a record for two hundred K
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| And buy a Rollie with a diamond face
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| What you talking bout hater, what you talking bout
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| In that little apartment nigga you can barely walk around
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| Living room so big I could probably drive a car round
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| If you talking shit nigga
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| I might turn this car around
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| I got a few compliments for some bad whores
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| But because of them
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| Nigga I’mma act an asshole
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| Got on my favorite leather jacket and my jeans with fifty gees in them
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| And not to mention that have on Japanese denim
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| I’m the flyest motherfucker in this motherfuckering club
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| Surrounded by all the niggas that I love
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| Surrounded by bunch of bitches I could fuck
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| And I couple killers who don’t really give a fuck
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| All that snitchin' ain’t gonna set you free
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| All that wishing gonna make you Me
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| Dropped out of collage, I got no degree
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| But black cards got no limit
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| Call me Master P
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| What you drilling for nigga
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| What you grilling for
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| And you got my old girl
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| What you, what you stealing for?
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| On that loud talk let me know you’re in your feelings though
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| I think in all these disscusions all I feel is …
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| If you touch it till you make it hard
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| Tomorrow I’mma tell you to quit your job
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| Get you up out of this titty bar
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| And put your name top of my platnium credit cards
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| Where you shopping at baby, where you shopping at?
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| You got a garage baby I’mma put it dropping at
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| Ain’t no cheap tickets, Vegas we be copping that
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| 1st class, drivin' g5's
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| Wearing stocking caps |