| Alright
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| Shit
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| (Trapboy3k)
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| Accidental shit talking
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| Y’all niggas can’t fuck with me
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| (Stupid Dog, I ain’t gon' lie, this bitch hard)
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| Niggas tryna act like me, buyin' cut drank
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| Girly got too much ass, I know her butt stink
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| Was finna shoot, then handed off the rock, that’s a pumpfake
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| Buckshots, bet if the Glock miss his ass, the pump ain’t
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| I got the bags from LB, but the Runtz fake
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| I count the cash and D-I-P, bro, I couldn’t stay
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| I might stay in Cali when I go re-up, I bought a one-way
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| Deebo, snatch his necklace, then be like, «What chain?»
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| Cup dirty, got up early and put up thirty
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| I’ma keep a 40 on me like a drunk person
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| Dogshit, I been countin' twenties up since 1:30
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| You got two flip phones but only one workin'
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| Found out a nigga hit my bitch and I’m not mad
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| The Runtz bag say Jokes Up, but I will not laugh
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| Percocets got my nuts itchin', I ain’t got crabs
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| Bought a Sprite, then drunk the lean straight, now my pop mad
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| Just brok an M30 in half and let Louie take it
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| My bitch ass and tittis fake, but her Gucci ain’t
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| Been bustin' in the bitch a week straight, now her coochie stank
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| She wanna fuck, but keep talkin' 'bout my music, she a groupie, ain’t she?
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| Bet if I ain’t have a million views, she wouldn’t let me hit it
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| Without my drugs, I’m only fuckin' for seven minutes
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| Baby Ghost’ll knock your noodles back if I recommend it
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| But if I give him ten racks, it’ll get detrimental
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| My shooter signed up for unemployment and bought seven Smittys
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| Bitch, I been winnin' for a while, I’m on level sixty
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| Independent, makin' bands off rap, ain’t a better feelin'
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| Ridin' 'round with K’s out on bond not the best decision
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| But it’s that or let a pussy nigga catch me slippin'
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| If you look up shit talkin', I’m the definition
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| Come get a half a zip of soft for eleven-fifty
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| Two standard clips, a thirty round, and an extra fifty
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| With this Ghetto Boyz shit, I’m the ambassador
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| Come to us lookin' for smoke, you gon' catch cancer
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| Two RPs and a honey pack, I’ma rim-shake
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| Was tryna run a ten up, made fifteen, then I ran faster
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| Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga, you know what the fuck goin' on
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| Accidental shit talkin', nigga, yeah
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| That shit was on accident |