| I don’t really got to say much
|
| I let my pacc talk
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| I don’t really got to talk much
|
| That’s what these racks for
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| I get fly for the studio
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| I get fly for the airport
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| I get fly everywhere I go oh oh oh
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| 30 bottles up in Graystone
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| In the club rolling airplanes
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| You get money, you already know oh oh
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| So much kris, you would think we bought whole sale
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| And my crib so big, look like a hotel
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| When we leave here we smoking up the hotel
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| When we leave ain’t no time to pay the whole bill
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| Cause we al getting money uh
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| I don’t really got to say much
|
| I let my pacc talk
|
| I don’t really got to talk much
|
| That’s what these racks for
|
| We getting it nigga
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| I’m a broke nigga’s nightmare, broke hoes I stir
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| And I walk in bank roll, long as the dank roll
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| It’s gon be hard to hear you niggas
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| Louis frame so I don’t have to see you niggas
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| Me and the Taylor Gang, floating on a private plane
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| Bad bitch give me brain, hide behind this tinted thing
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| Money bag, kush go long
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| Niggas wonder what I be on
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| All about the Benjies nigga, puffy cone
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| I can make a actress do back flips on mattress
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| I could make a sack do a backflip on Sex Ville
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| Get trippy with a star
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| It will get you far
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| Turned up in the club, TMZ, I stop my car
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| I don’t really got to say much
|
| I let my pacc talk
|
| I don’t really got to talk much
|
| That’s what these racks for
|
| Catch me in the spot with more X but the chalk
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| Take off cookies, kush, kilos and mollies
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| Smelling like money, what an elegant flagrance
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| And this watch I got on is a hell of a statement
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| Check the clock and know the time
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| Girl fuck your body, I want your mind
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| Maybe I’ve given this money, making you spending this money
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| I brought you up many planes, then you should probly die
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| I don’t really got to say much
|
| I let my pacc talk
|
| I don’t really got to talk much
|
| That’s what these racks for |