| You should be rolling up by now
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| Locate your lighters
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| Prime time
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| It’s mister go left on the bitch who can’t find her right mind
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| I’m squeaking past a yellow light, doin 65
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| Hope that wasn’t one of them camera joints
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| Traffic eyes in the sky
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| I’m kind of high
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| What you done twisted?
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| I’m used to that killer shit
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| So I maintain my pimpin
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| While you over highed and slizzered
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| And I’m laughin at you slippin
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| And yo bitch feeling disgusted and miserable
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| She like why is she even here with you
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| I’m puttin air in my inner tubes
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| Black mags on my haro hanging from the wall
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| The allure of my home decor
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| Got these girls tripping
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| And frequently speaking of return visits
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| A time machine, my lyrics and the same thing for my garage door
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| You see what I just put in it?
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| We tryna compete with them Nascars
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| You noticing that the styling got switched up
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| Cause the last one got bit up?
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| Yeah lil homie y’all can get down, but I bet y’all can’t keep up!
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| This Jet Life ain’t for everybody,
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| This shit is reserved for us
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| Yeah lil homie y’all can get down, but I bet y’all can’t keep up!
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| The stylin got switched up
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| Cause the last one got bit up
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| Yeah lil homie y’all can get down, but I bet y’all can’t keep up! |