| I’m happy
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| Mhm, mhm
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| Savage, life
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| SpaceGhostPurrp
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| Lil' bitch
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| My bathtub lift up, my walls do a 360
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| And you owe me 4 for that whole thang, that’s 36 deep
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| I got yo bitch trynna spoon
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| I paint a picture with her hymen
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| She dress up like Sailor Moon for my excitement
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| Said «Wipe Me Down» I got a lot of money now, bitch
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| Said «Wipe Me Down» I got a lot of money now, bitch!
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| Nigga get yo mind right, still got work on deck
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| Put you down with my connect if yo stocks right
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| Get tangible with that tangerine, break it down so I can smoke it in the
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| limelight
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| And I got a new bitch, we looking up at the stars
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| No ceiling like I’m tryna shoplift
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| In a candy-coated Van Gogh painted Lexus, art school bitch love when I scoop
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| her in that shit
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| When I talk, know that that’s pimp shit mane
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| Blow sick smoke, smell like incense mane
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| Just bought a 5 and it grip my Hanes, and I put that on my momma like she Lisa
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| Ann
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| It was flown over seas just to get sent to me
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| Hands stuck to my bitch tanlines while we at the beach
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| And I jumped yo homeboy, well sorry, bitch, I was on a bean
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| I got my bud and my woodgrain steering wheel all from the Giving Tree
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| My nigga, fuck with me!
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| Well I got yo bitch rubbing all on her clit in that oh-10
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| I recline my seat and pull out my shit, shoot one on her hood like I’m Zimmerman
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| A handful of real niggas and I’m rolling with 'em bitch
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| Young nigga only growin' pains I got is in my dick
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| In the set with a redhead, battle to the death
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| Look like First Form Cell all the freckles on her chest
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| And I lay it all out
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| Show 'em straight money so they know it’s real
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| Robb Bank$ to the public, but to my Zo’s I’m Jean-Michel
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| I look like Basquiat, Basquiat
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| Bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat
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| Basquiat, bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat
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| These hoes on my dick, so I’m going hard in the paint
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| Me and Madonna got married and that heroin in my veins
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| And I whip my hair back and forth, go ask ya man if he straight
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| Just know I’m fresh off the Xan, tell that nigga give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| And I got bitches mixing my paint and getting high off of the fumes
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| I’m taking bitches out on dates and take them right back to my room
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| Room 69 at the Fountainebleau, right before I smang me and her make a toast
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| Fucking bitches on my pottery wheel same skin tone as a motherfucking ghost
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| And I mix lemonade with that dirty and I take one sip and I’m higher than a
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| bitch
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| Pull out my dick and these hoes run
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| And get paper towels for they head like Jadakiss
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| Suck my dick! |
| I’m out here nigga yelling «Suck my dick!»
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| Lohan told them niggas «Suck my dick!»
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| Mill told them fuck niggas «Suck my dick»
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| And I bet your bitch gonna wanna take a pic when I throw on all of these
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| diamonds
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| You see the accents when I’m shining like Keith Haring a set full of riders
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| And I’m riding through my city painting on a pill painting all my sights in
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| acrylics
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| Got a AR that play dubstep if you try to come for my skrilla
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| And I ain’t tryna have no fuck niggas up in my region
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| My bitch and I made a smokescreen and I’m coughing and she wheezing
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| I look like Basquiat, Basquiat
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| Bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat
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| Basquiat, bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat
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| These hoes on my dick, so I’m going hard in the paint
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| Me and Madonna got married and that heroin in my veins
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| And I whip my hair back and forth, go ask ya man if he straight
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| Just know I’m fresh off the Xan, tell that nigga give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint
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| Give me something to paint, lil' bitch
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| Money
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| Hoes
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| Money
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| Hoes
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| And now I don’t count no money and I don’t fuck no hoes
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| 'Cause now I got an accountant, I’m never in town so these bitches just gon'
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| send nudes to my phone
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| And I’m out in the Bahamas smoking wine milds in the grapevine
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| Paid off that villa, but I’m only there up in the daytime
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| And that’s love to all of my Spring bitches, kisses to my Margate hoes
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| Colgate for my incisors, platinum for my k9s |
| And you bi niggas dressing in furs, like what the fuck?
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| Gotta rose gold wedding band and she still wanna fuck
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| I could run a hot wheel down her curves
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| Still wanna fuck even though my bathroom is his and hers
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| My main bitch, she just got a new whip, got her a baby Glock that tote right
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| above her clit
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| Queen of my Sparta in them gladiator flats
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| Motherfucking real bitch, man, she keep it 300
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| But no sweet shit, don’t dap me, I ain’t Freddy
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| Straight like that, nigga, straight like that
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| WOBO hit it 'til I get to the plastic on the black boy
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| And all you niggas is tatted for no reason, take it if you want it as a diss
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| You doing cover-ups bitch and I’m doing the same thing with my dermatologist
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| And if your lips touch my dick make sure that they filled with collagen,
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| that’s barbie bitch
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| Hit my me if your ass want to menage again, and a bottle of that white Remy got
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| my words all slurred
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| And my hair getting longer, I’m Super Saiyan 3, nigga, that’s my word
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| My niggas, that’s my word, nigga, that’s my word
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| You niggas think you really fucking with me? |
| Sure |