| Walk wit a limp, and I talk wit a lingo
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| Party with a bunch of bad girls in a Pinto
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| Run up on a motherfucker wit a dull pencil
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| Sharpen up a #2 on his new Benzo
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| Hit the brakes, all the way, you can do an endo
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| Put the bass in your face, you can feel the tempo
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| Yela’s in your face, grab a stencil
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| You should wanna get a copy of the style
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| I’ll lend yo ass, the man so bad
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| From Alabama with banjo cocked back
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| Swing bass like I’m Rambo fix that
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| I don’t wanna hear shit buddy that’s that
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| Can’t get the buzz, go run back to the bar pick another drink get ready to go
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| Send me ya telephone number bitch, maybe when I’m ready to roll I’ll hit you
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| wit the totem pole
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| But right now I’m
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| Well boy you wanna do this shit, well lets get to it
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| You already know Imma run right through it
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| I’m just like fluid, artifact like water
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| Come on be real I go a little harder
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| Hide ya girlfriend, wife or daughter
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| Put it on a plate Imma serve ya order
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| Line em up, put em in place for the slaughter
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| Game over by the end of 1st quarter
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| Wake up hater rise and shine
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| I’m a start when you riding pine
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| I got yo main girl riding mine
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| Her face in my lap as I recline
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| It’s grinding time and I declare
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| I’ll run my fingers through her hair
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| I run these streets like marathon
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| You can’t touch me like Hammer, gone
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| Don’t you know I got Bun B in my front seat and we got these
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| (Poppers on the Chrome)
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| One time for ya boy Pimp C
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| (Pocket full of stones)
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| I gotta pocket full of stones cause I fell off my dirt bike in cargo pants
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| I rock a microphone literally, lit up the track lyrically wit bottles cans
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| Pop a band, put a stack on it I’ll water his plants like Aquaman
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| Make a rapper run back to the studio retrace his steps like he dropped a gram
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| I’ll be damned, Catfish Billy, you don’t wanna run if ya rhythm ain’t ready
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| Sin syllables, beats edible, incredible, inevitably, GO! |