| Pussy lips, Contraband’s for chips, sold all kinds of shit
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| Hoover Crip, guns on fingertips, switched all kinda clips
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| 50 raised, since my county days, brought all kind of fades
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| Renegade, fuck what rappers say, bitch I am LA!
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| Gimme bucks, might show up in tux
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| Got my millions up, nigga what?
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| Spanish ho in cut, she supreme deluxe
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| Asian broads eat Caucasian broads, guess I’m dipped in sauce
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| Link up fool, gunplay pika-boo, guess who tagging you?
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| Bring showers through, grab ya bathing suit
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| We-we-wet em all, cannonball
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| Swipe my debit card, fly from here to Mars
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| Nigga what? |
| Got my millions up
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| F-f-f-f fuck you mean? |
| We stacking green
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| Stacking stacks of green, flip them, trampoline
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| Groovy Q, murk the judges crew, fuck the jury too
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| Bang the set, rep my 52, young hog down to shoot
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| I keep a Glock or get razor sharp, bitch, get left with Pac
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| My Biggie knock, he won’t know who shot, fearing down the block
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| Or serve this work? |
| Lay back close the curt, pop my collar first
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| And blew my trees, put my nerves at ease, 'til my trigger squeeze
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| My heater heat, still I’m high off weed, bitch thats high degrees!
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| I money make, AM out of state, call that wake and bake
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| Bring cookie sheets, dope boys on the beat, well known in the streets
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| I’m crip for real, way before the deal, had them Oxy pills
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| In act we sell, straight from Murderville, yeah we served a lot
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| Left days on blocks, got them tens in socks, nah nah not talking shoes
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| I’m talking rocks, had the dopest spots, look out for the cops
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| My mini-me, snatch the dope and flee, guess thats how it be when you OG
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| He said he lived through me, but (sss) I’m stacking mills
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| I’m speaking real, shock the world for real
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| Pull up in that ill! |