| Damn, this a bitch
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| We ain’t gotta motherfuckin thing
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| Ring CJ do what he doin in Cali-for-ni-a
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| (Hello?)
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| Hey, wuz up nigga, it’s Face
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| (What up Fizzace?)
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| Feelin I’m gone come fuck wit you
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| (Come on down loco)
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| Ai, please have some bitches, please
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| (Ha ha ha) Ha ha ha
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| Verse 1 (CJ Mack, Scarface)
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| Locc, I been hustlin all week
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| Tonight’s the night I dips 'n try to step up in a freak
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| I call this ho named Tiki, she got homies we can twist
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| All we need’s some chronic and a motherfuckin fifth
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| Is you wit me locc?
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| What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mines
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| When I’m in Houston you be treatin me fine
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| I scoop you up in L.A.X. |
| around 6
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| I scootch you through the hood, then we gone get up in these tricks
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| It’s Friday night
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| Two players in a black 5−0-0
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| Slidin down the shore, gettin at every fly ho
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| I’m wit my homey, ain’t nobody set trippin
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| Drops my shit off at his house and then we kept flippin
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| Now see y’know your nigga don’t sleep
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| Homey enough and see
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| Well, hand your nigga some heat
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| So I can feel warm in these cold ass L.A. streets
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| Now hook ya nigga wit some L.A. freaks, baby
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| It’s Friday night
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| Hook: CJ Mack
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| Straight sellin with my Texas G
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| Stayin sucka free as I L-O-C
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| It’s Friday night
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| Two players on a hoodrat chase
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| You niggas can’t see me and you can’t see my nigga Face
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| First thang we do is hit the club
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| I’m seein hella bitches in the corners tryin to show your homey love
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| This bitch is fly as a bird
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| And gotta ass that could swang from California all the way up thru
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| Pittsburgh
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| Hold up locc (What?)
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| I know that flea
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| She been out 'n club hoppin since '83 (Ain't this a bitch)
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| And the bitch is still hoin
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| See, get at broke bitch and fake smile and keep strollin locc (Riiiight!)
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| See them busters in the corner, they don’t like my hood
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| I don’t like their hood so it ain’t all good
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| So keep ya eyes on em
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| Cos if it ??? |
| ??? |
| line, we gotta slide on em
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| Ride on em
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| I gots no problem kickin dust up wit punk ass little busters
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| Who wants to try to buck us, we grab these guns and bust em
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| I gots that tena millimetre in tha parkin lot
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| Fuck em locc, we gots some bitches at the Mariott
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| Hook
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| Verse 3: (CJ Mack, Scarface)
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| You motherfuckers better chill
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| Before you fuck around and lose and get your cap peeled
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| Jumps on the elevator, hops off the six floor
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| Knocks on the door of room 604
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| Gets greeted by the biggest pair of thighs you wanna see
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| With a pair just like a *?mona?* homegirl G
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| See, vee like the mix and vee like the twist of em
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| Face, you can hit it first and then we can switch
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| It ain’t no fun if my homey can’t twist a bitch
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| I’ll dare ya ass to try to run that 2PAC shit
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| I goes high-ho silver like the fuckin Moan Ranger
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| Playin here’s out my dick inside a total fuckin stranger
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| You fuckin with a Texas cowboy, I puts it down boy
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| You ready for the second go (You know it!)
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| I go two or three hours and I’m sendin these bitches off on their way
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| (See ya!) You’s a fool CJ!
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| (Nigga, how you like the southern California freakin?)
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| Dogg, I’ll be back every motherfuckin weekend
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| It’s Friday night
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| Hook: CJ Mack
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| Straight sellin with my Texas OG
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| Stayin sucka free as I L-O-C
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| It’s Friday night
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| You motherfuckers better lay back
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| (Cos you can’t see that Face)
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| Or it’s just the nigga C-Mack
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| Outro: CJ Mack
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| Yeah Mr Scarface and CJ Mack
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| Puttin in much work for Rap-A-Lot and Rap-A-Lot West for the 9−5
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| You motherfuckers better stay down
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| Cos y’all punks couldn’t see us with ultrasound
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| Coward
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| You motherfuckers couldn’t see us with glasses on
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| He he, y’knowhutI’msayin? |