| Tell you a little something bout a nigga like me
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| Marijuana residue, on my white tee
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| Bankroll in my pocket and the bitch all blue
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| I’m just keeping the shit 1 hunna
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| Free C Murder, me the truth
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| Truth nigga til I’m dead
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| If I die bury me beside my .44
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| And smoke a whole pound
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| But again I’ma keep on serving
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| Stunting on these bitches, swerving
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| If something dead go real fast
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| Drop top and
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| My rich bitch foreign
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| Smoking weed and dranking syrup
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| At 8 o clock in the morning
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| My trap spot loud open
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| Nigga in 9 o clock in the morning
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| 1 pm pat came from dirt for real out in California
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| I got customers out my door
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| Counting money, talking on the phone
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| Yo bitch on my other line
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| But she ain’t talking dollar signs
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| Yo bitch on my other line
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| But she ain’t talking dollar signs
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| She send me text lets go for lunch
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| I text her back I ain’t got time
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| Dollar signs, dollar signs
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| Yo bitch on my other line, I ain’t lying
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| She just called my phone said she got dick all on her mind
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| I said bitch when you get drunk you say that all the time
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| That’s yo favorite line
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| But I ain’t got time
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| She ready to get the pussy up and blame it on the alcohol
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| Swear she getting money but that bitch be still in at the mall
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| Any given time she ready to come out of them draws
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| She love giving head but she ain’t got no walls
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| Got money stashed in the ceiling in the floor and in the walls
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| Out in L. A balling like I’m Chris Paul
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| Your going through withdrawal |