| Get yourself together baby, before it’s too late for ya
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| Yeah i’m seein' you in the mess that you made, gotta
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| Hit the bottom to come thru like true bass in the
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| You said you can never be too paid, so what
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| You let niggas put you on like, and what
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| You start tastin' koolaid
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| But feel ya, like you waitin' two steaks but uh
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| Deep inside you hurtin' like a toothache you know
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| You’re too fake, you straight yeah that’s what you say, baby
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| Anyway hey, get that shit (together)
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| Start your funeral boy, write you obituo-
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| You shouldn’t let you know who back in the studio
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| The flow that’ll chew your whole ass like a tootsie roll
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| No laugh no jokes
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| And my loot is still usual for those who provoke
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| Get mush like a two-year old
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| Pushed in a corner 'cause you under control
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| Can’t hold the fast-paced 'cause your
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| 'Sho nuff slow poke wichya face exposed
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| Put yo ass in the sling and do what you suppos-
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| And oh, here’s a couple words I think you should
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| Together for what?
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| The s is makin' them
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| Runnin my mouth, sometimes i wonder for what
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| It just goes to show how many clits you blow for what
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| Just to get a number?
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| That’s why my crew will never ever sit back and have to wonder, about another
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| paycheck
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| My lyrics are definitely considered to be a threat
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| Like steppin to the s would some shit you regret |