| I was in the back where they left me at
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| Nigga you don’t know me where you seen me at?
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| I be on the court where my team be at
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| You be on the sidelines where the cheerleaders be at
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| You know I’m always busy chasin' greenbacks
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| I double back, I’m the hitman with double straps
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| And now I got yo' chick high 'cause I got the sack
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| I’m switchin' lanes, doin' donuts in a Pontiac
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| Niggas claim they spitters where yo' bars at?
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| If he ain’t talkin' 'bout no money I won’t call back
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| I call Ricky, he pull up now yo' skull cracked
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| I call Momo he pull up with that big mac
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| I’m smokin' strong like a six pack
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| These niggas lie so I got no choice but to spit facts
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| I’m the last of my kind
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| I’m stackin' every penny I could never drop a dime
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| And I can tell when you lyin'
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| I’m writin' music on the plane just to make the time fly
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| Bitch I might do a drive-by
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| When I’m askin' for my money better look me in my eye
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| And keep it real don’t lie
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| Tell me how you fucked it up tryna eat the whole pie
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| Fake niggas I despise
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| I can’t even trust a chick 'cause she only want my prize
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| I gotta eat so I’m want the supersize
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| One minute they with you then they wanna scrutinize
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| And I don’t like to socialize
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| I smoke OG 'til I got the China eyes
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| I was smoked out before it was legalized
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| And I can spot a hater with my eagle eyes
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| And you don’t even wanna battle
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| From the Wild, Wild, South, I might pull up on my saddle
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| You know I rose out the gravel
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| Only God can judge me, fuck a man with a gavel
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| You know how I’m comin'
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| Bang Camp Drumming, it’s nothin'
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| I just, I just, you know
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| I could’ve killed the last two bars, but it’s Simmie Season
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| Niggas know what it is
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| I mean, bow |