| Word around town, I’m the man, nigga
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| Break that bitch down to the grams, nigga
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| Sixteen O’s in a pound nigga
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| Quarterback draw, touchdown, nigga
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| Touch, touch, touchdown, nigga
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| Touch, touch, touchdown, nigga
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| Touch, touch, touchdown, nigga
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| Next day air, no ground, nigga
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| Took a loss, had a nigga on slim fast
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| Now I’m moving weight, like gym class
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| Broke her down, every bag, like Sinbad
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| How I get this bread, mind your business
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| Set it on sight and I go half price
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| Dough got my bread, on your head, no lights
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| Wrap it up good, no smell, that’s right
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| Cut the box open, no Jordan, that’s flight
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| Shit look good, so I’m stacking numbers
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| Next morning, another tracking number
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| Looking for a bad bitch I can bust down
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| Tricking off, field go, I need a touchdown
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| Throw that shit like Peyton
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| Throw that shit like Peyton
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| Throw that shit like Peyton
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| Hurry up, I got these other niggas waiting
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| Send the shit over, tryna see bread
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| And if I say how I said it, Imma see face
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| Ain’t tryna get myself cold, nigga
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| When I throw the passes, it’s colt, nigga
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| Met a bitch at the club, I’m tryna see her
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| She could be my new wide receiver
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| No photo, we don’t play text
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| No smell, wrapped up, like safe sex
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| Fast life, no slow down, nigga
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| Move weight, like my car broke down, nigga
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| No rare thing good, no doubt
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| Long as niggas don’t run the wrong routes
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| Throw that shit like Peyton
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| Throw that shit like Peyton
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| Throw that shit like Peyton
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| Hurry up, I got these other niggas waiting |