| Yeah, the more beef than the less bread
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| Uh, quiet women give the best head
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| Rappers doin' dope, went from trying to be like Hov'
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| Now they’d rather rock and roll and be like Led Zepp'
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| Linsanity the way I shocked the game
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| Momma hoppin' out the Bentley, sister hoppin' out the Range
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| Stop the blame for my entourage, just stop droppin' names
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| And you gon' stop getting dropped and mollywhopped by the gang
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| Do your thang, just keep me out of it
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| My money does gymnastics, man, I’m tryna make some houses flip
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| The sound of shit hittin' the fan turns me on
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| 'Cause I just been addicted to chaos since early on
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| I’ve surely gone off the ledge a couple times by now
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| Pandemic hit, rappers sellin' sex right now
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| I don’t gangbang, but trust me, bro, I’m set right now
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| Real bosses don’t need to chase a check right now
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| It’s for the best right now, you go broke so you can wake up
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| You struggling, your labelhead is somewhere in Jamaica
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| Eatin' jerk chicken, drinking Appleton rum
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| Fix your mind state, that’s when all the capital comes
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| Fake titties feel like rocks, I like the natural ones
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| I like a girl who gives me head without me asking for some
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| Way to step up to the plate and take initiative
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| Peace of mind, the only thing that’s on my Christmas list
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| Business is boomin', Ruben, I ain’t stutter
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| My career ain’t reach its climax yet, I ain’t Usher
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| I’m not your brother 'cause we took a pic
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| You must be higher than when Snoop handed me kush to hit
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| Shush a bitch swiftly, shh, it’s me
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| I could teach you how to be a player, Chris Brickley
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| Pick me ass bitches on the timeline making Alfredo
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| Posting quotes they don’t live by, thinking they Plato
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| Y’all ain’t foolin' anyone except the dumb ones
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| Whole game is Wayne, Drake, Future, Young Thug sons
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| I just skipped customs 'cause I took a jet
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| I’ma eat forever, I took equity, you took a check
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| Short term dough, not lookin' past your nose
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| Lotta y’all don’t listen to Nipsey and it shows
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| You get around a bad bitch, you quick to make a post
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| I can tell you didn’t get pussy when you were broke
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| Me, I keep it on the low 'cause the mystique is player
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| I don’t care about the hate shit, I was sixteen with haters
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| Tryna diss me for paper, end up backfiring
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| We gon' take your diamonds, make your eyes look like sapphires
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| But I’m tryna chill on the violence
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| Well connected, pressin' rappers at wireless
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| Why you tryna fight me? |
| You should try to fight your stylist and management
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| I can’t argue with people who think it’s fly to buy the mannequin
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| Low taste, don’t talk to me
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| Fuck a Uber, bitch, walk to me, show me that you want it
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| Yeah, I brag about tickets, plaques and ownership, sue me
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| Y’all brag about Moncler and Gucci on your body
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| So how come I’m the only one who gets called cocky?
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| As if rap isn’t braggadocios
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| At least what I brag about can get you bags
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| Instead of handin' over cash to someone racist who just uses y’all for black
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| promotion (Damn)
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| Way to stick it to the man
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| You really showed him by putting cash in his hand
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| Walked out the store then you post him on the 'Gram
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| Now your fans are his fans
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| The cycle repeats, congrats, stupid |