| You shot me up in your dream last night
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| You wonder if in real life you woulda won that fight
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| Ya shot guns, guns, shoulda shot more guns
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| If you were wide awake would that have been a lot more fun?
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| Well I’m just rappin' 'bout the money well seein' what money brings
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| Laughin' at the funny rappers doin' funny things
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| Blah blah blah shoulda made the right choice
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| I’m gettin' head screamin' «I'm a gangster-ass white boy!»
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| And I don’t even think she likes boys
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| This sex is on fire, how the fuck is this legal?
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| I’m gettin' even higher I’m flyin' with the seagulls
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| This head is unreal (how the fuck is this legal?)
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| Look
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| I walk in any spot watch the swag leak off me
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| I’m so dope you could bag the leaves off me
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| Bag, bag the leaves, bag the leaves off me
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| I walk in any spot (how the fuck is this legal?)
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| Look
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| I know I’ve had some thoughts and dreams you prolly think you’ve had
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| But I wonder in real life if you’da took that chance
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| I need funds, funds, hundreds n' thousands
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| Fuck it I’m done scroungin' the
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| Don’t matter who you are in the end, 'cause time gets you
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| So while I’m in this life I stay cleaner than five whistles
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| Trust we on the way, we ain’t goin' any place
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| Bartender 86th, but we goin' anyways
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| Keep it wavy in the seat, that’s my weed smokin' look
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| Come on man, you’da me, it’s like clico to cooks
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| I be on, two or three, see we hit 'em like jugs
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| While my cup’s lookin' chilly zig zag’s lookin' kush
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| Look
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| I walk in any spot watch the swag leak off me
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| I’m so dope you could bag the leaves off me
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| Bag, bag the leaves, bag the leaves off me
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| I walk in any spot (how the fuck is this legal?)
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| {Verse 3: Sam Lachow]
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| I’m hoppin' on the L to Brooklyn so I can slobber on some L’s in Brooklyn
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| I’m the man out here (uh huh)
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| Where’s twenty foot gram out here
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| I got the hookups so the dojo come from California
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| Yo who the fuck brought you here?
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| Matter fact, the truth is, I’m new here
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| Shag pone swag I thought you knew this
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| They tellin' me to be more politically correct
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| But I love rap yah rap’s about smokin' and oral sex
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| Dude ya lady’s hella crazy after all
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| I took her out just for fun but without her I’m better off
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| She put her number in my phone but I forgot, never called
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| And then she found me weeks later trippin' out at Webster Hall
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| Look
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| I walk in any spot watch the swag leak off me
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| I’m so dope you could bag the leaves off me
|
| Bag, bag the leaves, bag the leaves off me
|
| I walk in any spot (how the fuck is this legal?)
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| Drums, drums, I beat on drums
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| I’m a giant here I come, fee, fi, fo, fum
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| I don’t wanna here a hum, better bite yo tongue
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| I’ll eat a beet, and a whole microphone, yum
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| I’m spittin' nothin' but venom I’m a head above like a center
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| I’m Ricky Bobby the winner and baby Jesus at dinner
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| You intermediate flow to hit me you gotta get lessons
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| On next, gold necklace jump to kiro calisthenics
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| I enter into a room I’m the life of it 'til I exit
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| The record hittin' the needle they bouncin' just like my checks is
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| My F-L-O-W row without the protection
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| I’m keepin' it ninety plus and then I wrecked it
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| You breastfed, baby
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| Look
|
| I walk in any spot watch the swag leak off me
|
| I’m so dope you could bag the leaves off me
|
| Bag, bag the leaves, bag the leaves off me
|
| I walk in any spot (how the fuck is this legal?) |