| Why are zyl frames on me? |
| Good Nike, yeah
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| True, alotta chains on, this is how we do the thing, enlight me
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| Clubbed out, bugged out, this is what them thugs bout
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| Bust off shotties, knock niggas mother’s out
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| Roll in them renters in winter
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| Too much bones, get bent up
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| The sword’ll eat up your chrome for dinner
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| We tasting VS’s, very special Cognac since G.S.'s
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| Now we leaning Louis sneakers and C.L.S.'s
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| I’m far from your average rapper, yeah Shallah, hit with an actor
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| Cutting through your time, then slap ya
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| Yo, you see me on them Smack shits, all of my Skittles on
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| In black whips, living comfortable in some glass cribs
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| Word to Jabari, my junior, only two years old
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| Swimming with the sharks, I’mma feed you tuna
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| Your pops been a whale since jail
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| Was taking niggas out to Brazil
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| Where carnivale mamis is ill
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| Take me to Paul Wall, buy me a grill
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| I got groupies, buying me Gucci’s and exclusive Nike’s, it’s real
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| I stay biz in the kitchen with the Chef Rae-Kwiz
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| It’s either five mill or I’mma have to take they kids
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| I figured out how to rape the system
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| I made more than your album budget off of a freestyle on this mixtape
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| A hustler that understand dollars and cents
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| I get blowjobs from runway models in France
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| The rap Burt Reynolds, when I married the world trembles
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| Producing earthquakes, turning ya stone hedge to pebbles
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| The life we chose, the path we lead
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| And none of us’ll see heaven, that’s our own guarantee
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| Never rat on your friends, always keep your mouth shut
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| The back of the Benz, put this in your mouth, slut
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| I saw, I conquered, I came and I’m out
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| Laid it out all on the tonsils, then skeet in her mouth |