| I’mma show you motherfuckers how to kill a remix
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| Comin' all black like I’m hittin' them licks
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| All black .40 with them ladders hangin' out
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| 30-round clips, call them shits chopsticks
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| Run up in the booth with a ski mask on
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| Run up in the booth make a ski mask song
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| Run up the booth, then I hop up in the Coupe
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| Now I’m ridin' in the ‘Rari with a ski mask on
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| I’m too bossed up, I need to turn my boss down
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| King of the Street shit, where the fuck is my crown?
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| Graduated from the street but I kept my gown
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| You the motherfuckin' man if you servin' your town
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| My lil' nigga eat, sleep, shit and deal cocaine
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| Not that rap shit, I’m talkin' real cocaine
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| CTE, TBC (what is is, homeboy?) «Boss Yo Life Up Gang»
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| With my boss bitch and she bossed up
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| On that 2Pac, she’s gettin' tossed up
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| Can’t cross me, you’ll get crossed up
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| Can’t cross me, I’m too bossed up
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| My name Hefe, I do boss shit
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| No Old Star, get lost, bitch
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| You a bitch nigga? |
| Then kick rocks
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| Just know rich niggas do drop-tops
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| You ain’t shit, I talk shit
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| Ebola rhymes, my watch sick
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| I’m Top Gun, I’m in the cockpit
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| Got the game locked, call the locksmith
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| No Stan Smith, I do gourmet
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| Giuseppes, new Js
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| My earrings, they cold as fuck
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| Call the North Pole, that’s bossin' up
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| Valet park my whip, nigga
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| Hammer time for my chips, nigga
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| (Bossin' up) add it up
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| Your girlfriend choosin' so you mad as fuck
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| Chillin' with my coalition, niggas rackin' up
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| (Bossin' up) add it up
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| (Bossin' up) add it up
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| A lil' Louis, but my bitch want some bags and stuff
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| Bossin' up and you downgrade
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| Look around and see a bunch of clowns
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| Tryna represent my town lately (wait)
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| I’ve been gone for like 30 days
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| I wore every chain, no wedding ring
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| Got a boss bitch and she understand
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| That timing is everything
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| Nah, don’t trip — put it on the tab
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| Knowin' I’m a G, gotta put it on the bag
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| Break a bitch down, gotta put her in a cast
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| She ain’t got a ride, might put her in a cab
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| You ain’t even know, nigga? |
| Put him in a class
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| Trip, Big Chuck might put you in the past
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| Hit a blunt hard, nigga, put me in the pads
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| Just rolled up, but the high don’t last
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| Ridin' through the city, hope I don’t crash
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| Know they thought that it wasn’t gon' last
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| You can’t even tell me why you mad?
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| Is it really that bad, is you doin' that bad?
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| What you make in a year I pay in taxes
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| The money burnin' holes in my pocket
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| I just need somewhere to ash it
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| Nah, you ain’t gotta ask, bitch…
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| Okay, I’m bossin' up…
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| ‘Cause I done already lost enough
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| See, like… ever since last year…
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| Everythin' I’m buyin', now it cost one up
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| Say, it’s dark as fuck…
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| Girl, why you actin' hard? |
| The fuck?
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| Why you got your guards up?
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| Like you playin' ball or somethin'
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| Pull up in that Porsche Panamera, park it up
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| Hop out lookin' sharp as fuck, tint dark as fuck
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| Bitch, fuck up off…
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| But you know we don’t love them hoes
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| Yeah, me and Young partnerin' up
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| That’s the talk in all the barbershops, nigga
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| Shaq height, couldn’t baller block
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| Probably invest in all the stocks
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| I’m 400, corporate thuggin', pushin' at the label
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| Mama still got bills that’s gotta be paid for
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| Remember when mama wasn’t able?
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| With them credit card numbers, I was payin' cable
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| It’s all respect over here… we gettin' checks over here
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| All my homies rap, so all my niggas got next over here |