| You don’t need to wonder if I blow
|
| There’s alot of it
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| On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
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| Technicolor platinum silver golds on my front some shit
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| On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
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| East Atlanta, South Chicago flows
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| Yeah we run this shit
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| Don’t you even front bout it, don’t you even front bout it
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| Throw the peace sign, this is nothing, I be high
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| As two-pilot propeller planes
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| Got hella flame for the fuckboys that sell they fame
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| The pigs come round', nobody tell a name
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| Nobody tell a name, nobody tell a name
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| The pigs come round', nobody tell a name
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| My bitch bought me a Gucci shirt
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| I’m turnt up like Lil Uzi Vert
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| Fuck with me you might get murked
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| My clique draped in all type of flow
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| For my lil' bro moves all types of work
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| My gang out here, my gang out there
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| I’m with them hoods that you can’t go
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| Atlanta like my second home
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| My side bitch if we technical
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| No nigga this fresh you know
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| Dressed like a professional, turquoise on my necklace though
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| You be on that western coast
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| Always on the dash you know, sorry I ain’t checking though
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| I’m just out in Texas though, meet and text and sex these hoes
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| I’m not even flexing though
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| It’s just my confessional, it’s just my confessional
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| How a nigga move so professional
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| With an extra hoe?
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| I’mma let you know
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| Getting money like I never seen a check before
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| Getting blessed like I’ve never ever stressed no more
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| Putting bitches on, never getting dressed no more
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| I don’t even send a text with address no more
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| She just pull up at the door, I finessed that hoe
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| Like oowah
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| Young nigga savage
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| Posted on your backstreet
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| With a thick chick
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| She looking like an athlete
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| In the ave-y
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| Saying thick ass Ashley
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| I’mma pass her that
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| Stick like track meet
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| My boys don’t sing
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| But they BackStreet
|
| Yeah, uh
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| You don’t need to wonder if I blow
|
| There’s alot of it
|
| On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
|
| Technicolor platinum silver goals on my front some shit
|
| On my Koji Kondo shit, on my Koji Kondo
|
| East Atlanta, South Chicago flows
|
| Yeah we run this shit
|
| Don’t you even front bout it, don’t you even front bout it |