| Yung Pacino, trying to get deniro
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| Ride off in the sunset, let 'em flock like seagulls
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| It was nonstop weed smoke, till I stopped and got Cleco
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| It’s Russ, and any artist 'till I blow is a placebo
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| You know when I touch down smoke a Philly like an eagle
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| And getting so high off my shit like you sniffed the whole kilo
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| Dare the devil to fuck with me, it sounds evil
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| But what’s a gamble when you own the whole goddamn casino?
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| I’m talkin' bout life, roll the dice and hit the jackpot
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| Harvest on my field of dreams, thoughts on my cash crops
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| Only fuck with will-dos, I don’t fuck with have-nots
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| Making sure my wills move up until the last stop
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| Chicas in front of me, Italy in my backdrop
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| Shit’s so pretty make me wanna take a snapshot
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| I’m going out in a glass coffin so you could look in
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| And see what’s up
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| Here I come I hope your ready
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| Because I am coming through
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| And when I’m dead, you won’t forget me
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| Consider I’m closing in on you |