| Comin' down, rollin' up
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| Sweet James Jones in a styrofoam cup
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| All my cars got leather and wood
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| Off white body with the Santa Claus
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| Got some
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| Tell them niggas I’m the best and I ain’t ever give a fuck
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| Listen nigga, I’m a threat and I ain’t ever givin' up
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| I keep a quarter of the Cali, shall forever live it up
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| And this’ll never be enough but you can bet a nigga bust
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| I know that Tia lookin' down on me, I hope I keep it up
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| And though I need my homie I can’t let it eat me up
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| But if I’m ever in a rut or say I ever need a crutch
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| I got an angel lookin' down on me to tell me beat it up
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| 'Cause I’m high enough to reach him, I’m forever weeded up
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| Lot of shit is on my chest and so I had to speed it up
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| But when I finally get to Heaven we did it up
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| Got the Chevy feeted up, we sittin' higher than we used to
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| Rollin' through the city, hittin' places that we used to
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| Still rollin' sticky, doin' things that we used to
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| Same niggas with me, all the same niggas you knew
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| Who knew? |
| You knew, I was gon' blow
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| With a Betty in the Chevy with a heavy cloud of smoke
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| And tried to tell 'em 'bout my nigga while we mellow on the choke
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| 'Cause some Afghan kush is like Heaven to the throat
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| Rollin' down my window in a cloud of endo
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| I get high 'cause I don’t know what we’re in for
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| The streets don’t love me, the block don’t love me
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| I light my L for all my niggas above me
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| I’m in the cabbie, I’m just rollin' 'round, rollin' up
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| OZ of OG Kush in the tuck
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| Ride for a while so I rolled me a dutch
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| Know it’s pain in the world, everybody need a crutch
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| Got my nigga in a rut, facin' 7 years max
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| Conspiracy to sell, had his cellphone tapped
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| Nigga bailed for the trap, wish he would have fell back
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| Now he lookin' at a felony charge and that’s that
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| Historical black fact, most niggas catch a charge
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| Once in our life, bein' niggas is hard
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| I still kick it for my niggas on that
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| Blow a whiff of the bomb, and in the moment of calm
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| I raise an L for my niggas in the greater beyond
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| Smoke the greatest of chron while leanin' back in the coupe
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| 'Scapin' all reality and then it’s back in the booth
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| Puttin' work into the wordplay, never gettin' rest
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| Never know if you’ll be here one day and disappear the next
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| Carpe diem on the chest, dealin' with the chest
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| It’s the illin' type of feelin' when you’re better than the rest
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| This is better than a threat, this as good as it gets
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| 'Cause the niggas that I’m with, they wouldn’t settle for less
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| To my niggas up above who I’ll never forget
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| Tell them niggas I’ma do it to death
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| Smokin' fire, y’all smoke up
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| 'Roc and pineapple up in my cup
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| I don’t fuck with Diddy but I drink Ciroc
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| Don’t need a hundred niggas with me when I stain the block
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| 'Cause I’m solo dolo, prolly with your hoe
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| Gettin' sucked off by Camille and Coco
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| I’ll put a pistol in a nigga mouth for Romo
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| Don’t got to hit the scene with these hip-hop promos
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| Real shit you can’t deal with
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| But that fuck shit, you’ve been stuck with
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| And yo the radio don’t gotta ever play my shit
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| If I don’t hit, niggas better learn to duck, bitch
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| 'Cause I’m rappin' and robbin', on my job and
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| You can push a mothafucka, you don’t want no problems
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| FG 'bout cheese so you can’t knock him
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| Show up at a rap show and go chain shoppin'
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| Bitch face down, shake down
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| Triple up when the hoe lick, break down
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| And a nigga got work on the mailin' list
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| 'Cause I be shippin' it off to like 8 towns
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| Wow, got loud and powder packs
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| 16's in this bitch, straight bounce it back
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| Rollin' with my latest dime, see the bitch behind me
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| But I bet I ain’t rollin' down my window |