| Ru-ru-run-run, here come the menace, it’s a sobriety, like what?
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| Super thuggers thumpin' on the cut
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| What-what, what-what? |
| My motherfuckin' Uzi weighs a ton
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| Hit the drum, do you hear it go, «Brrup-pum-pum-pum»
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| Run-run, piety just really isn’t us
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| What a rush, see you cuttin' up a bod', that’s my lunch
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| Ru-ru-run your motherfuckin' pockets when I come
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| It’s an honor to be robbed by Denise’s only son
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| Yeah, give a really baby boy, beta movin' extra heavy
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| Whippin' Chevy (Uh), gotta get it, eat spaghetti with the maf'
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| So vegan, bitch, if he don’t get 'cause they don’t eat no steak and lobster
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| Sosa was my hero, only Tony since a fuckin' Hawk
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| (Out of sight) Out of mind, out of touch, out of time
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| Man, I’ll smoke a bogie backwards with thumb up like, «It's fine»
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| (Run) See yourself, I say, selflessly divine
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| Leave me here to drown in glory, you’re too good to cross that line
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| (Run-run) Tragically struck down in my prime
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| By the speed at which the bags are dropping
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| Shoulda watched the sky
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| You don’t wanna live this life, it’s really not sublime
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| I’m only doing what I want while hockin' loogies at the swine
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| Out of sight (Ayy)
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| R-T-J, what you say? |
| (Ayy)
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| I don’t give a fuck, out-out-out-out of sight (ayy)
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| R-T-J, what you say? |
| What you say? |
| (Ayy)
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| What you gonna do? |
| What you gonna do?
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| We the motivating, devastating, captivating, Ghost and Rae relating
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| Product of the fuckin '80s, coke dealing babies
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| Never regulating, bag accumulating, it would not be overstating to say they are
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| underrating
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| The pride of Brooklyn and the Grady baby
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| We don’t need no compliments or confidence
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| Our attitude and latitude is, «Fuck you pay me»
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| Next summer leather bombers, dookie ropes and smokin' indica
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| Ain’t a team as mean and clean as J Meline and Michael Render, bruh
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| TV got no temperature, even if it did
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| Bitch, we cool as penguin pussy on the polar cap peninsula
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| Colder than your baby mama heart (Uh)
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| When she find out you been fuckin' with that other broad
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| And you ain’t got that rent for her
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| I know you just about mcfuckin had it our shit is just magic
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| Go figure the runts of the litter did it without scammin'
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| Was fryin' in the fat of the land, now your man is mashin'
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| We back of the class and laughin', you raisin a hand and tattlin'
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| Mike shitted in your locker then left a note with a winky face
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| Meet us at three o’clock if you wanna do something tragic
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| We’ll shrinky dinky all of that yappin', it’s automated
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| The gears of the rapper shredder want action and it’ll have it
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| You know I’m poppin', the product of fuckin poverty
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| I’m cool as AC and you niggas you just wannabes
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| I slide on tracks like home plate, ride beats like road rage
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| Got a crib in like four states, uh
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| I get a text like, «Stay safe»
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| Text back, «I miss that pussy, be home soon and I can’t wait»
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| I came from a dream, triple beam, and some grey tape (Yeah)
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| A sister went shoppin' and put my bags in the A8
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| «Hello Mr. Big Face,"the bank teller tryna get rank
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| I buy a hot dog stand if I’m tryna be frank
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| Just left the hospital, makin' sure my nigga was straight
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| And sent bail, couple dollars 'til they give him a date
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| Tony
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| Out-out-out of sight (Ayy)
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| R-T-J, what you say? |
| (Ayy)
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| I don’t give a fuck, out-out-out-out of sight (ayy)
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| R-T-J, what you say? |
| What you say? |
| (Ayy)
|
| What you gonna do? |
| What you gonna do? |