| I’m in my bass pro camo, lookin' like I’m Rambo
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| Military sack strapped with some Roman candles
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| I’m 'bout to light it up like it’s Independence Day
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| I do it underground, that’s the independent way
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| I got a dinner date, I’m ten minutes late
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| With this chick that I met up on the internate
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| I mean the internet, I mean that fucking app
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| I mean a meth head, I met her in the fucking trap (huh?)
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| No, what the fuck is that?
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| I met her at a show (oh)
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| I’m like Jeezy, selling tickets like it’s fucking snow
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| Or like I’m Yeezy, selling Yeezys, I’ll be Goddamned
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| You gotta buy these VIP tickets, understand?
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| I mean a stream is just a dream unless you’re front row
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| A million views, we lookin' good, but no dough
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| I’m in the booth whippin' merch like I’m in the kitchen
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| Strange Music going stupid, it’s your new addiction
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| We got guns, dope, clips for mo' ammo
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| Rhyming like a quarter key inside the door panel
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| Put your ear to the speaker, get you high
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| Don’t this music feel like you can fly?
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| Guns, dope, clips for mo' ammo
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| Rhyming like a quarter key inside the door panel
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| Put your ear to the speaker, get you high
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| Don’t this music feel like you can fly?
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| Look, if you ain’t gave me my props yet, you late as fuck
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| I like to think that I’m top five like Jada does
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| Speeding past these rappers like they traffic cops with radar guns
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| And counting so much money that my fingertips got papercuts
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| You play and talk to me, you sweet as lemonade or punch
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| Caped Crusader Captain saved a slut, I met your lady once
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| We fucked and now it turned into a weekly visit
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| Got her hooked like I was deep sea fishing
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| And she mean business, she says she love to ride it all night
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| I really get head and she got suction like a Dyson Upright
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| I seen the sunlight, woke up and play some Maxwell
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| She open wide and sat still
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| I fucked her throat and filmed it, now that’s what I call a gag reel
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| Again and again we win, while all you do is catch L’s
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| My father ain’t a farmer but his son became a cash cow
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| Revolver’s on as fuck if you a boxer or a black belt
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| Should’ve packed, yeah
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| Go back on my double time shit and I bet you I spazz out
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| We got guns, dope, clips for mo' ammo
|
| Rhyming like a quarter key inside the door panel
|
| Put your ear to the speaker, get you high
|
| Don’t this music feel like you can fly?
|
| Guns, dope, clips for mo' ammo
|
| Rhyming like a quarter key inside the door panel
|
| Put your ear to the speaker, get you high
|
| Don’t this music feel like you can fly?
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| Growed with killas who rolled with Milla’s
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| Some soulless niggas who go get liquor then blow spliffs wit ya
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| Popo suspicious we sold tricks fixes to hold big riches
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| These roguish wishes is so ridiculous
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| Bogus bitches you ho’s fictitious and low wit glitches
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| The Dough made you notice DIBKIS (I gotta stop)
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| Flows is gifted I get throwed get twisted then bro gets wicked when I spit I’m
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| bout to kill em and a soul is lifted (That nigga hot)
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| My rap assignment give the industry an alignment rapper’s ain’t goin straight
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| no mo'
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| Image really need refinement let a nigga help recreate yo flow, and I’m gon'
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| design it to make mo' dough shake mo Ho’s hey bro bro, this that N9ne shit!
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| trippin! |
| (why?)
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| Cause I been drinkin like a camel, (yeah?)
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| Tried to play me like a piano, (yeah?)
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| Now I’m about to go Rambo packin' mo' ammo nigga!
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| We got guns, dope, clips for mo' ammo
|
| Rhyming like a quarter key inside the door panel
|
| Put your ear to the speaker, get you high
|
| Don’t this music feel like you can fly?
|
| Guns, dope, clips for mo' ammo
|
| Rhyming like a quarter key inside the door panel
|
| Put your ear to the speaker, get you high
|
| Don’t this music feel like you can fly? |