| We still sick, we still hood, we still life, still’s most still drinking,
|
| still staying alive. |
| Still taking care of children or whatever. |
| Still scrap.
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| We just still, we just still
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| He say that he a gangsta, but I heard a nigga smacked him
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| They say that I be rapping like I’m still serving em out my magnums,
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| still serving em out magnums
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| Lil homie want an order three. |
| That I’m only selling quarter piece (right now).
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| You can give me twelve-fifty, three and a quarter for the zippers.
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| I’m selling Christmas trees with purple ornaments, won’t see no sticks or
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| seeds. |
| Ain’t paying for the pussy, I pay for the bitch to leave.
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| When I’m paying for the cookies, like highway robbery, I get the shits so
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| cheep. |
| Don’t play me for no pussy. |
| Tryin to rob her, got this big OE.
|
| As I recall I get at niggas that call themselves slick destiny.
|
| If I ain’t in a rental I’m in that low-low with them tints and them dents.
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| Charge me with intent when they find there’s dope in the vent. |
| Thirty thousand
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| spent for all this drow my people sent. |
| Come and get a sack if bout my flow you
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| not convinced. |
| I got a whiff for every day of the week. |
| Was stolen two own rims.
|
| Got two parked at my hoe house. |
| I ain’t got no motherfuckin sense
|
| Still servin, still servin
|
| They say that I be rapping like I’m still serving em out my magnums,
|
| still serving em out magnums
|
| Riding around with me, myself, and I and they all gonna shoot. |
| So why’s this
|
| pack so fucking loud, I got the volume on mute. |
| Mr. Five Point Six, Mr.
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| Five Point Six. |
| Why they call you that? |
| I’m trying to sell you five quarters
|
| out this shit. |
| Hey, aren’t you all star? |
| Ask me something stupid like why I got
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| these jars all in the car. |
| I know all of the cuts to get back to the spot.
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| Rap like I’m strapped with a Glock, some rock in my socks. |
| Started selling
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| rocks because the scent was kind of hot. |
| Sold a hundred, hundred packs of zanex.
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| One short, hundred pack to pop. |
| Thirty round on that F and A, it’s actually
|
| not a Glock. |
| My sell was wine, my scare was dying. |
| Took the battery out my
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| watch, I’m still serving. |
| Still, still
|
| Still servin, still servin
|
| They say that I be rapping like I’m still serving em out my magnums,
|
| still serving em out magnums
|
| He say that he a gangsta, but I heard a nigga smacked him |