| Testing, testing… testing testing
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| Uh, Sick Wid It, Sick Wid It
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| 707, Sick Wid It Records, Sick Wid It
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| Click shit, Click shit nigga
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| Click shit, Click shit nigga
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| Click shit, Click shit nigga
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| Skit, skank, ska-dattle, made ya truck rattle
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| Grimey on the grind, extra dark like a shadow
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| Money on my mind, G’s to stack
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| 26 Glock nine split ya wig back
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| I gotta pocket full of duckets
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| You about to get off all nuggets
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| Gutter ghetto, money by the sewer
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| Broccoli head, lookin' kind of super
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| Life, right, almost white
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| She had a fresh shot, vice grip tight
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| She said don’t stop, I said alright
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| Humongous ass, I punched the gas
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| And my speed racer go fast, super-endurance
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| Souped up with a kit, high-performance
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| Gettin' scratched off the block
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| Alpine, Foxgate, monster cables, speakers
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| And woofers the whole doo-wop
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| Yeah, skee-skirt eeh-skirt hop a lil' way and mo' turf
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| Lil' mama said «Cool I like that South shit»
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| But I’m really off that 40 and The Click
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| Don’t you got a friend girl about the same height
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| You know two thongs don’t make a dyke |
| Two thongs don’t make my night
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| Let’s get up out of dodge
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| Me and yo friend girlfriend… Econo Lodge
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| Why you bullshittin' you need to stop starin'
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| As you peekin' I’m speakin' I’m seein'
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| You need to lose what you wearin'
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| Lil' mama you got that Victor Baron
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| Girl I’mma fool with it, hella laced up and cool with it
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| Went to school with it, never did get to hit it
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| Mixed weight, played for the tennis team
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| A lil' grain we weighed upon my triple beam
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| Full of schemes with dreams to be a boss
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| Candy colored and buttered, cameras turn soft
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| Gettin' off, my nina ross spit the venom
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| Fuck bitches at lunch with days lit em' up
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| Start sendin' em' now I’m gettin' ends from em'
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| Even friends of em' lines of tens of em'
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| I’m tryin' to win something, baby can I talk to you
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| What with you, is it mildew or barbecue
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| She worked back, asked me how I’m gon' act
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| You wasn’t with me way back when the albums flat
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| Remember that yeah but now it’s flarin'
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| Got me starin' baby got that Victor Baron
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| I ain’t carin' if ya boyfriend live with ya |
| I’m out to get ya, hit ya, and take the picture
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| Post you up on the Internet dot com
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| Lil' baby got the bomb
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| Why you bullshittin' you need to stop starin'
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| Is ya peekin' or speakin' I’m seein'
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| You need to lose what ya wearin'
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| Lil' mama you got that Victor Baron
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| I see ya creepin' but she ain’t speakin'
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| Steppin' through the club, laughin' and sneakin'
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| But you keep puttin' yourself in the angles of the eyesight of me
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| Now I gots to go real deep
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| Deep, deep, deep into my game zone
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| Cause I’m peel her and take her to my home
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| Toss her up, toss her up with the agility of a big body
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| Look bitch I thought you knew this was my hobby
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| You know I ran mine straight, don’t fuck with punk bitches
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| Hella vicious, tradin' stitches for the riches
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| If it itches my left hand we gon' get it
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| Keep her fitted, make niggas wanna hit it
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| And when they visit pass go and pay a fee
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| They be thankin' me, baby keep bankin' me
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| Kind of stankin' you know how these hoes be
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| But this bitch got that V
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| V as in Victor, capri jeans fit her |
| Have to pick her, thicker than a Q-sized nigga
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| A church girl, used to like to read the Bible
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| Turned out wanna fuck me on her menstral cycle
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| High-powered spit from the lungs
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| Suck dick like an ol' lady al gums
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| Sweetheart ain’t no comparin'
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| You got that Victor Baron
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| Why you bullshittin' you need to stop starin'
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| As you peekin' I’m speakin' I’m seein'
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| You need to lose what you wearin'
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| Lil' mama you got that Victor Baron
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| Man that Victor Baron is serious dog, ya know
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| That shit is so potent, know what I mean
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| What, that bomb shit
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| Hey you know I was with that Vietnamese
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| And bright skin last night right, right
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| Suck a nigga real proper like right, right
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| Shit was way cool nigga
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| Hey it wasn’t no Victor though nigga
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| That shit was Victor Baron nigga
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| Hey look here ol' boy
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| I had an epsode the other day right
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| I mean the bitch, I mean I stuck the shit in right
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| And the bitch just clamped on my shit real tough
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| Ya know what I’m sayin' right
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| Then I pulled my shit out right
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| Next thing ya know hella rain came out her crevice an shit |
| That bitch had some Victor Baron
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| Victor Baron ass pussy, oh boy oh boy
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| I knocked the breeze on the ocean the other night
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| Ya understand, till she slide off
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| Had me hittin' that pussy real deep
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| Yeah, was it Victor, it was Victor
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| You know what I mean it was live
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| Victor Baron man, Victor what
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| Victor Baron man, Victor who
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| That’s smob |