| I’m talkin 'bout puttin' on, ridin' out; |
| Glocks in my ma’s house
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| Front you with that work (I done fronted niggas work — OH-OHHH~!)
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| You say you want that head up but we don’t fight fair brah
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| Catch you slippin' from your backside, they knock you out
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| Ace gon' stomp you out then Buddah gon' stomp you out
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| (Has momma ever see you with a busted eye and busted mouth?!)
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| Nine milli pokin' out, fo-fizzy pokin' out
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| Death Row days, show you what this West Coast about
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| I’d die for my motherfuckin' nigga
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| Jump in front a bullet for my motherfuckin' nigga
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| On the stand I’d lie for my motherfuckin' nigga
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| Rob a bank, I’d drive for my motherfuckin' nigga
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| Real talk, I don’t really fuck with too many niggas
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| Cause niggas drop a dime on you like a couple nickels
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| I be laughin' to the bank like the fuckin' money tickle
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| Drivin' somethin' that you ain’t, top boss, suck a nipple
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| And I never put a ho before my bro, don’t beef over no hoe
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| And my niggas sell them keys if you can’t open your door
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| Hope you buy for my motherfuckin' niggas
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| When it rains it pours, it’s dry for me and my fuckin' niggas, he-heh
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| I kill for my motherfuckin' niggas
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| Vice versa, eyes red from the kush I blew white person
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| Got my middle finger on the trigger and with my little finger to you niggas
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| I swear it’s fuck all y’all niggas… except my niggas
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| OWW~!
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| I said that I’m a ride for my motherfuckin' nigga (Tunechi!)
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| Most likely I’m a die with my finger on the trigger
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| I’ve been grindin outside all day with my niggas
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| (And I ain’t goin' in unless I’m with my nigga)
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| (My nigga, my nigga…)
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| (My nigga, my nigga) My motherfuckin' niggas!
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| (My nigga, my nigga) My nigga, my nigga
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| My nigga, my nigga — yeah…
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| Ohh! |
| I done spent a million dollars on my motherfuckin' niggas (stacks)
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| You catch me out Chicago with them motherfuckin' hittas (stacks)
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| Call in RondoNumbaNine, Lil Durk will bring the trigger (Durk!)
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| And when we on that lean, we ain’t fuckin' with the liquor (no)
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| I’m a buy a hundred bottles just to give it to the bitches (to the bitches)
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| … She keep likin' all my pictures
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| Cause she see the way I ball, how my wrist and that be lit up
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| Catch you at the red light, have 'em screamin' «Can't get up!"(YOU CAN’T)
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| Same nigga from the bottom, ain’t a damn thing change
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| C-C-Catch me out in Collins screamin' «Money ain’t a thang»
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| In a red Mulsanne, lookin' like I claim blood
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| And if homie ain’t my homie then I know it ain’t love
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| Screamin' out «4 Hunnid!"YG that’s my nigga (my nigga)
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| Cause I been in the field life on the line with' him (line with' him)
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| And if it’s really good, why I prolly die with' 'em (die with' 'em)
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| Cause when I need the choppers, I just tell Tock hit 'em — WHOA~!
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| I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I just got 250 thousand dollars for a verse, nigga
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| I-I don’t know, is it me or it’s your thirst, nigga?
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| You nig, you niggas ain’t got no joints
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| Like a injured Chris Paul, you ain’t got no point
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| I just come through with a couple bossy bitches
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| They get money too, they some «don't cross me bitches»
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| Flossy bitches, Sergio Rossi, bitches
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| And if we at the game then it’s floor seat, bitches!
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| I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I ride for my bitches
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| I’m so fuckin' rich I cop rides for my bitches
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| Dollar menu fries, apple pies, out the bitches
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| I drop a freestyle and get a rise outta bitches; |
| bitches, my bitches
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| I need a nigga with some Diff’rent Strokes — Todd Bridges
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| Shout out to my MAIN bitches and my side bitches
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| Need a nigga with some good neck — ostriches
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| … My niggas
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| New York to Compton
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| Got YG with me so don’t get stomped in, uh-huh
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| Y’all know who the fuck it is
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| See I done preheated my oven to 350 degrees, BITCH~!
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| And when you come out, it’s gon' burn you bitches like
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| You better get your motherfuckin' oven mitt, BITCH~!
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| HA-HAAAAA! |