| My neck and wrist both smothered in gold
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| And it feel like I gained a few pounds 'cause this shit weigh a load
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| See that Wraith like driving a boat
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| Put that mother fucker on the interstate, and watch how it float
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| My nigga Spitta yea he taught me the most
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| Out in ATL Mean Streets Studios cooking up dope
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| I play the sweats with the Louis V coat
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| And like a mob boss unto our accomplishments we toast
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| I’m hella fed up with fools who breakin' the code
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| Had to go and bless my neck with a lil' rose gold
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| And homie mad 'cause his bitch watch all my videos
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| Tuned in like ya boy her favorite episode
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| I don’t hustle for these hoes, never did never will
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| Was motivated when I seen Boosie crib
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| Knowing that I could get it, so that’s what I did
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| Hitting bitches out the park on some homerun shit
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| Yea nigga this the sandlot
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| Knocking bitches out the park back to they mans spot
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| Don C slash Mitchell & Ness collab shorts at my gym class ball out
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| All net or I might kiss it off the glass
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| Wrong sport my bad, we on a baseball diamond
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| This is high priced rhyming
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| I spell my gang name with diamonds
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| Slid up with my young homie behind me in his own Maserati
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| No bitch I didn’t buy it
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| He put his hustle down, he went out there and got it
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| He was the lil dawg now he like my grown patna
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| I’m proud of my young playa, I sit back and watch him
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| I told him that these hoes they for everybody
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| They not your property
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| Did she fuck your homie? |
| yea probably
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| But that’s not important, focus on building your monopoly
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| Them bitches gon' be where them dollars be, follow me
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| And I could show you some of that killa that my homegirl been growing
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| Act like you been knowing
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| Yea
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| Yea nigga this the sandlot
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| Knocking bitches out the park back to they mans spot |