| 7:46, wake up, hand on my dick
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| Lakers lost by 30 last night, I’m talking shit
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| Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
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| Reading GQ magazine while I take a shit
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| Walk back to my room, wake up this bitch
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| Kickin' her out, dick in her mouth, that Compton shit, boy
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| I’m on that monster shit, boy
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| Chopper out the trunk, on some Compton shit, boy
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| I remember flipping dimes and shit
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| Putting five to them planes, that La Bamba shit
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| Dr. Dre ain’t got time for this, he wearing Beats
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| I got my ear to the ground, lil' nigga, I’m in these streets like
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| Streetlights and lead pipes, up in the projects
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| We gon' make it out but this shit is a slow process
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| Lean right, keep heat tight, don’t ever digest
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| Hollow tips where your mind rest, you forgot
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| They don’t make niggas like me
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| Nah, they don’t make niggas like me
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| They don’t make niggas like me
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| They don’t make niggas like me
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| Wassup
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| I’m that nigga that sold packs by the bungalows
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| Animal out here, my niggas in the jungles know
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| I’m cold like one below in Green Bay
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| Had the water on the block, to the fiends I was a stingray
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| I had a Z before I seen Jay
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| I had the West, I used to sling yay
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| But sometimes when tables turn like a DJ
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| Had them rocks and them bands like Green Day
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| I used to listen to, Project Pat tote straps and sell crack
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| Used to smoke that Bobby Brown, fuck rats and sit back
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| On my forte, was more yay, my enemies got gift-wrapped
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| The two nicks in two days, got new fits and new Js
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| Thankful for my two Ks, my vision clear as Blu-ray
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| Kill your ass today, knock the glue off your toupée
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| My guns like «hi», leave that shy shit to Lupe
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| Then chop the top off the coupe, doomsday
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| They don’t make niggas like me
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| Nah, they don’t make niggas like me
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| They don’t make niggas like me
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| They don’t make niggas like me
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| Cook crack nigga |