| What the lick read them small timers be big league
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| Entertaining the bullshit too risky
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| Fifty dollar half a mint, mixed breed
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| Bitch please go plankin', six feet
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| Bout to teach everybody a lesson
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| Think they got all the answers til you switch up the questions
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| Fuck the guidelines new age baby boomer
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| Rules don’t abide by not I
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| Not even trynna me and my little mama
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| Somewhere on a beach on Porta smokin' sour
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| Livin' life
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| Funk the resort up nothin' but load
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| The holdin' their nose prolly think the skunk is around
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| You know the kid got the meanest raw, cleanest bar
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| Got Ralph Lauren pieces never seen before
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| Nigga closet way iller than yours
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| Rugby game like Richie McCaw
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| Live like like a Rolling Stone
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| Passport got no room for stamps
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| Everywhere we go they know my name you messin' with some real life made men
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| Uh, self made bosses
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| Want something done and they say when
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| That’s why you could never be able
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| To pow wow with us at the head of the table
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| From where I’m sittin' I can’t see ya’ll
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| I’m in this golf shirt bout to tee off
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| This rap shit is like gettin' weed off
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| And I ain’t buy these shades at no kiosk
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| If money is the goal I’m the inkeeper
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| And I ain’t start rappin' to make friends either
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| They let us in the game now they stuck with us
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| It’s hard to find somebody that don’t fuck with us
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| You know we got a little bucks with us
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| Fans feeling like they grew up with us
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| Shit, I’m on my first of the month business
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| She got stretched just to eat a little lunch with us
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| Yeah, I got the prime rib veggie plate
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| She hit me with the Dom you know I’m ready face
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| I got my napkin in my low shirt
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| Just let me finish my Merlot first |