| Aye, treat me like a King I deserve to be pampered
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| Came too far to be living like Sanford, rare Bre
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| Gettin pussy on campus, told me when she me
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| Can’t wait to turn cash in, carefree
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| Effortless, I don’t live by glide
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| Clyde Drexler shit
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| Really MJ bout mine without the extra years
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| All acting planning gonna have extra tears
|
| We back to back on the highway
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| Really on the hunt, dawg
|
| Hit about five states, gone for a month
|
| Blowin' bomb in the SS, got a hair press, holdin up a face
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| Put her hand: «are we there yet?»
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| Sun down, high hopes pullin' into town
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| No sleep
|
| No sleep
|
| No sleep
|
| I ain’t ask for this, you chose up
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| Before you came around, I been good
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| You wanna hang around like clothes, huh?
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| Betta hang yo ass, oh, I should
|
| I need another break to froze up
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| Fucked around and stole a Rolex
|
| I came around with both the dozer
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| She ain’t even know I had that
|
| Slick moves, need some tissues shittin' on 'em, sittin' on 'em
|
| Rims cuttin' up the block when they bend the corner
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| Call the coroner, American Muscle and got foreigner
|
| So basically, you are
|
| Can’t complain when you moving too slow
|
| Say he treat you so bad like Club Luvon
|
| Under yo eyes is bad, but the dough is up
|
| No sleep
|
| No sleep
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| No sleep
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| No sleep |