| I’m loving every minute
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| Loving every minute of this life
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| I feel so alive
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| I feel so alive
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| Put the flag in the sign
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| Toast of my achievement
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| I’m turning on the music frequent
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| So far so good with the numbers and actions
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| Looking at the figures eastern
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| Within a hundred 40k in a week
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| That’s the kind of form I was seekin
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| Bad luck for songs I was leaking
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| Now when I eat tell 'em all what I’m peeking
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| Done the under crown battle and beefing
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| Burn rays didn’t get paid that’s free chip
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| Now I have a tone and the roads look teeth in
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| Until I thank God that I been here
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| I ain’t given up till I get there
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| On a beat 2 children and a dead chair
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| Came back made it I sat down I’m still Wiley
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| But I got kids now
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| Always on the grind no breaks in the 'lac
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| LA in a dash, pumpin that bass in the back
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| Lean back, can’t believe where we at
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| Just yesterday, slanging cd’s like crack on the streets like rats
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| Now rats wanna buy my cheese all good, you can eat the jag
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| I’m bumping my own shit
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| I still can’t believe it
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| Been winning so hard
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| My stripes is bleeding my adidas
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| I’m living all out and I want you to feel it
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| From the paper to the speakers
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| To my prayers, Thank You, Jesus
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| Round the world then back again
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| More hits more chicks no accidents
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| You absent, no access
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| Here to speak as bleed when I might check
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| Mic check 1, 2
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| I bless the beat hot too
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| As uncle Snoop he was there too
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| On a world tour, where were you?
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| Every day I’m trucking promise I won’t stop for nothing
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| My heart beat here like percussion
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| But I love it all or nothing
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| Poppin' dish with the wakers
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| See I went in with the Lakers
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| Put my dreams down a paper
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| But paper bring out the haters |