| Arkitects
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| Hah, ayy
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| Ayy, ayy
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| Tell your bitch all I need is the blue strips
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| She wanna fade when she see me with my new bitch
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| I got a Glock, sink ships, not loose lips
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| Shooters in the club, throw a punch, get your booth hit, I’ll do it
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| Got three guns, wonder which one I’m using
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| Blood left stains on my kicks, got me boolin'
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| Ridin' with that bag on me, money I’m pursuing
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| Tell me how I’m linkin' with a stick, Patrick Ewing (33)
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| Fourteen bad hoes all up in my section
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| I ain’t even old enough, I still got chopper in possession
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| .40 got a body on it, I’m just tryna show progression
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| If they catch me at church, I’m gon' shoot front the reverend, nigga
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| If you ridin' with a snitch, then you tellin', nigga
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| Kony, he look rich, but he will kill you for Margielas, nigga
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| Murder what I wrote, signed in blood 'fore I mail it, nigga
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| I smell bitch on the beat, I can smell you, nigga
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| Ayy ho, please stop, P, I need her out the way
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| Met her with my main, told her meet me in the Bay
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| Fifteen shots, pop ridin' with a K
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| Sit outside his mama house, we gon' leave him where he lay, nigga
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| Sixteen, bitch, swallow Perc' to the face
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| See this .40 on my waist for a nigga wanna hate
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| Send her on a date, she keep calling me her bae
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| I just tell her how it is, guess she never had an ape, nigga
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| Huh, I was sippin' Henn', I was servin' 'caine (No cap)
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| No cap, my favorite fiend was drinking Slurricane
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| I bet Kony learned the streets before he learned his name
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| I’m like Kobe with the heat, I’m shooting over Ace
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| Nigga shot at OMB with his eyes closed (Bitch)
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| I would’ve shot that pussy nigga with a blindfold
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| I would’ve jumped in front of Ken with my nine on
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| And thank him for the chance for me to get my slide on
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| Nigga, it ain’t no questioning my G
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| B Eighth, Eastside, I’m the best in the D
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| When it come to checkin' niggas, puttin' bitches on they feet
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| Nigga talkin' 'bout he woke, bet the Drac' leave him sleep, huh
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| White boy don’t disrespect the black man
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| Tell a lil' bitch I smack her with my backhand
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| Give 'em newspapers, traphouse the crack stand
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| Bitch, this ain’t no crab oil when I say the bag in
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| I used to transport the bows in my pants leg
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| Baby baby used to suck the dick in front her best friend
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| I will shoot the chopstick in front the reverend
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| If a pussy nigga say he tryna block my blessing
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| Tell your bitch all I need is the blue strips
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| She wanna fade when she see me with my new bitch
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| I got a Glock, sink ships, not loose lips
|
| Shooters in the club, throw a punch, get your booth hit, I’ll do it
|
| Got three guns, wonder which one I’m using
|
| Blood left stains on my kicks, got me boolin'
|
| Ridin' with that bag on me, money I’m pursuing
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| Tell me how I’m linkin' with a stick, Patrick Ewing (33)
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| Fourteen bad hoes all up in my section
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| (I still, I still got chopper in my hands)
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| .40 got a body on it, I’m just tryna show progression
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| If they catch me at church, I’m gon' shoot front the reverend, nigga |