| Well it’s that Mac daddy, 'Lac swanging
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| All these suckers still portraiting
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| Back at it, still an addict
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| I got love for bad habits
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| Riding low, sipping slow
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| Mixing codeine with that dope
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| Split it up with my kinfolk
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| Grey 5−9, you know the code
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| Riding down the 7th, make a left on Crescent, opposite of heaven
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| No confessions or you end up missing
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| Lil Half Cut got the Mac
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| Oddy got the sack
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| Yung Tyler Durden, introverted
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| Born a burden yet they still worship
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| I got four lines in the cup, and that cup inside another cup
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| Cream soda turned into red cream soda
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| Hydrocodone liquid, made the fucking doctor cough it up
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| Now I’m leaned over, now my spleen’s Yoda, green throw up
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| I’ma fiend, so what?
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| Life is but a fucking dream, pour up
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| Drive high when I drive by just to seem sober, bitch
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| And if I seem sober it’s because my fucking spleen exploded
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| And I keeled over
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| Wheels rolling right off of the cliff and splashed into that river stream below
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| us |