| Somewhere blown loud floating low breaded out
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| Love a dark sister but ran through lights like medic routes
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| Who here compare to ralph
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| Blacks by the double
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| Killimanjaro I get high by every para-i-mount
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| I’mma let that bitch breath fucker
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| And I’m doing find but them suits lying and I see you suckers
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| Fear not I’m you cicadas bitch I’m still buzzin
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| And my wrist rocky cause I beat up a little clubber, too
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| Making moves with that made crew, shoot
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| And to think that I almost did trade school
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| Now I kick that little cane mixed with wayne a’rooney
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| First album sleepers, second album groupies
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| I’m bout to show you broke, my next one a movie
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| Cause third times the charm, that’s word a sam bowie
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| And my ego will not change
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| But this shit so wack and the chips my stack, there will be no frito lay
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| Ok I’m winning competition who isn’t
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| Ralph in that new edition and that’s no ralphy or tripping
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| All my posse official and my policies simple
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| Keep your faith in your god, family over the business
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| Here niggas be at odds and get even with pistols
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| Air hakily nah, my partners is more official
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| And I’m at that mall again balling for that shit I been through
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| And that large grip is just small shit, like that shit from shih tzu
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| My pencil a get to everyday people when do Got a nice crib but I’m outstanding like mr. |
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