| I said
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| I said, I said, I said, I said
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| Two-toned guts
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| Get the money, bro
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| Every dollar earned, there’s another foe
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| Sixteen bars, 'bout a hundred shots
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| They ain’t my problem, I’mma get the guap
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| I’mma get the guap
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| They ain’t my problem, I’mma get the guap
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| I said, I said, I said, I said
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| Get some money, man
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| It ain’t hard to do
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| The no emotion route
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| Take it farther, you
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| Got to get food upon your table, stallions and your stable
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| Niggas sitting on the couches able, but don’t make the payroll
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| And these days are passing faster, so I need the check
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| If I can’t get that shit myself, then I don’t need the sex
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| That bitch was bad up in a honda, now she in a lex
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| Said she would never date a baller, but that was a flex
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| Get some money, man
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| What is wrong with you?
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| Talking 'bout THAT nigga
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| THAT is Rome, you fool
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| OK, stallions are now in my stable, hit that roll with bankrolls
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| They can speculate about my life, but it won’t change my payroll
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| And the days are passing faster, so I grip my grip
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| Got a little chick who tryna trick, so you know I’mma get
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| Her mind
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| Nigga, she can keep the whip
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| Yep, her mind
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| We gon' make this money flip
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| I sit it down to say
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| Like every single day
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| That passes with no pay
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| Evaluate to work my lay
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| With the body made, the mythology
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| And her brain is never gray
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| A few chapters of this pimpology
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| Get the dough and graduate
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| And that’s fine, that’s my
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| Summer break you take in May
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| That passes every day
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| Fly there with no delay
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| So, Rome, what you say?
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| Yeah, do just what you say?
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| I said the bread is all that matters 'til they pull us down the lay
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| I said! |