| Crash Beamers, get my slacks out the cleaners
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| My queen don’t even speak English
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| Watches on arms, rings on fingers
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| Notes played like Coltrane and Mingus
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| If you can’t play the game, wing it
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| Remember Lee? |
| The same as me, wing men, smooth as Luther Ingram
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| Ordained, shoe game strained, Eddie Kane’s pain
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| Heavy chain, sex, cocaine, a fresh chest pain
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| Dress plain, clever, White Plains, my life’s changed
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| Polite ways, nice waves, white slaves
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| My Nikes is like the ice age, Ice Capades
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| I rock the Issac Hayes shades, it was a phase
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| The legacy, the flesh of an emcee is a delicacy
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| I delicately squeeze shots from the celibacy
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| I’m like Denzel in Pelican Brief
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| The Porsche is yellow like American cheese (please)
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| My taste in women’s like Sade, we left the soiree
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| The Jaguar’s gray, the caviar’s great
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| Swipe the black card, 4.6 come with the crash bar
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| The seats is white like Terry Bradshaw
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| It’s a tough business, I’m duckin' the sentence
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| Hustlers, sinners, crushin' the fiddish
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| A touch of spinach, bruh man, nigga chillin, nigga chillin'
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| Bruh man, nigga chillin'
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| Water whippin' work — whip the furt (merk)
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| Twist purp, hit ‘em where it hurt
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| $ 800 dollar shirt, bitches flirt, I kick up dirt
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| Shit, Bert, Benzes with the skirt, rubber get burnt
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| Duckin' 5−0, whoa, Tae Bo
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| Eyes low, keep the .45 by the thigh bone
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| Chanel socks, Glocks, tip the bellhop
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| Checks is in the mailbox, to think we used to sell rocks
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| Flex the gators with the petrified eye
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| Accessorize, neck ties, cuff links, rough minks
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| Just think, I can knock your buzzard just with one blink
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| ‘Cause it ain’t nothin' sweet, buckin' heat, hookers rub feet
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| Hoes we never cuff ‘em, let ‘em run free
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| The clothes? |
| Shit is custom — we run things, things don’t run we
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| Crocodiled-down, Dundee
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| Yo, it’s a done D, hoes often tell me I got dumb Gs |