| Blaze a 50, sit back in the drop top Azure Bentley
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| Of course with me, this chick who’d make Bobby divorce Whitney
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| Brazilian candy, from Miami
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| Masseuse, wedding ring on, loving Celine Dion
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| Hate rap, told me where she get cake at
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| She’s a part-time dancer, part time romancer
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| Tries to be a mother when she gets a chance to
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| Left her husband alone to raise they son, he’s in pampers
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| Modeled for a year, got her bachelors degree
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| 33, recovering from plastic surgery
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| Went from 34B to 36 double D
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| Met her in San Diego at tha Super Bowl party
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| Had the Henny, sipped it up with Terrell Davis
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| MVP, we flicked it up from Sports Illustrated
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| I was silked out, flossing with Stoute, he had the gators
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| When she walked in, she lit up the room like Las Vegas
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| Terrell said her man’s a fullback for the Raiders
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| A drunk who’d fuck cheerleaders and wind up in the papers
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| It’s easy to get the pussy, just don’t fall in love
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| Next thing you know I’m hugged up with this bitch in the tub
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| Palm Springs, Al Capone’s Suite washing her feet
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| Is this love? |
| Somebody’s wife fucking a thug
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| Hitting it raw, tasting it, wilding out of my character
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| Taping it, Tyra Banks face with Faiths lips
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| Giving head like she knew me for years
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| Pillow talk, she let out tears, told me bout her husbands affairs
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| Millions she would get if his neck got slit
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| She rolled the equality, then passed the la to me
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| Told me 'bout her man’s life insurance policy
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| He stays on the golf course, wears Le Coq Sport
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| Evenings he drinks his wines on his private resort
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| You can take him there, here go the keys, you can slip in the rear
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| Chop a nigga up, yo, meet me somewhere
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| So we can make more money, then you could ever see rapping
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| Split the cash and move to Venezuela, adapting
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| P-11's, ACP shells for blasting
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| Caught him with his spanish maid
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| He had a lighter with a can of spray, burning her legs
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| She tied to the bed, sex S&M, sadomasochistic
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| Sadistic, yoked her from behind, blew him out exsistance
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| His maid cried «No», lucky she was blindfold
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| Naked with mad burn marks all on her thighs, yo
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| Twelve point five million, he kept his funds
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| In the Lloyd’s of London, goes to his wife and his children
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| Yo, I thought «What if shorty gets scared, electric chair’s all I envision
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| All she’ll probably get is psychiatric supervision»
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| I switched the plan, the maid flied to Switzerland
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| Fake ID, forged his wife name, catch the next flight
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| The same night, headed to Spain, nice game
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| Now we’re back to where we meet again
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| Blaze a 50, sit back in a drop-top Azure Bentley
|
| Of course with me, this chick who’d make Bobby divorce Whitney
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| Top down, night air blow her hair
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| Sky black, stars glow, the face on the moon stare
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| Fastlane on the nine-five, honey laughs about the cash
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| Took a blast out of her coke bag
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| Snorted it, started screaming «Yo, we almost crashed!»
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| Earlier I took the coke out, replaced it with crushed up glass
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| Her head nodded down to her chest, slowly she fell asleep
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| Overwhelmed by greed, put to death |