| Uh, ahhh yeah, right right now
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| Let’s drop, dedication to the kings of hip-hop
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| Shit, thank you ha
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| It was this bitch named LaQueesha, met her on the Eastside
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| Rollin' in my boat while pullin' her over with the p-sign
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| Spit the competence, and confidence in conversation
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| Chances on point and I’m not in violation
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| See hoes are like the value of a fraction
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| With me, I just proceed to do my deed to go to askin' em' relaxin' em'
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| Spit that game that drain from Imperial, she said a nigga be cereal
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| Like Cheerios, we live for hoes, here it goes
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| I’m rollin' with Suave and I ain’t givin' a fuck
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| Employed with some voids is doin' jobs to us
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| A must, I can bust from a hundred yards plus
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| But St. Gal is the rough, got in the Seville and mushed (Nigga hush)
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| Now who’s sweeter, the nigga Tela
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| 5−0 be the leader, speed of a T to Vida
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| Switch the bitch, enlisted dicks
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| I’m love she up to this, no contradicts
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| I’m givin' a fuck about man understand this
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| Keep on rollin' from the danger
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| And I’m loadin' one in chamber
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| Ain’t nobody out there ridin' close to me, not for free |
| Keep on rollin' from the danger
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| And I’m loadin' one in chamber
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| Ain’t nobody out there ridin' close to me, not for free
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| Now I’m makin' her mind cum off steak and rum
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| Abaci whites and henny whites and plenty umm, plum
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| Candy, man she understand me
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| See the name of the game is to be enchanting
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| Listen to those, I suppose that’s the catch
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| In the beginning tryin' to get in, naw that’s a childish act
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| Laid back, play that, roll havin' control over ya beau for a minute
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| Give her a hold and touch her titty
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| A pity someone gotta spit it intellectual
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| And give it the sexual meaning, keep it warm and dick it
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| I’ll get it, the chick like I’m supposed to
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| Makin' a toast to the evening as we leavin'
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| I told ya she’s gettin' social
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| Sayin' she’s around the smoker of the doja
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| And she knows the soap and close to
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| Super tight, teeth white like liquid paper
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| Versace jeans, got the Beamer schemes on that ass
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| Shake her, take her silk from the fit that I just ripped
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| From the boss, see God finally pick on the other car off of the |
| I’m sittin' here tryin' to figure if sweetie wanna dick up
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| My eyes on thighs that gotta slide in thicker, picker
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| Questions apart from solutions
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| From dark ways back to Houston, I shoot competin'
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| Now loosen up the lips between the hips
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| Clutchin' on my nuts like grips
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| Gettin' full of this eclipse
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| Slips, it’s something more loungin' than see-through gowns and
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| Got me clownin' in a tight town housin'
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| A thousand thangs on my brain as I recline
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| Dick these whores down from the crease in panty line
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| I guess I’m gonna seek through ya pines
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| I’m pressin' down the blinds to see reflection of super signs
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| A bitch goin' on out cha' gates
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| A nigga just pulled off his plates and ran up the staircase
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| Plates till seen like a scene from a tale
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| And nigga thinkin' she a queen so he ain’t physically well
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| I can tell from the cussin' he talkin' about bustin'
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| He grabs a galss and hits my ass with the bloody stubs and
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| Now you runnin' down the hallways tryin' to get to the stairways
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| Gon' and bust his ass between Winchester and Airways |
| Get paid, never take murderers, take no services
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| If they got cho' bitch then you feelin' kind of nervous |