| My country boys on the way, I’m finna serve 'em
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| I want you to hold this K, and don’t act nervous
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| Got them goons around me, and they workin'
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| We gettin' them birds in, and that’s for certain
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| He claim that he a boss but he never took a loss
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| Playin' both sides, that’s the shit’ll get yo' ass offed
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| Got some shooters on the buggy, they’ll kill yo' ass for nothin'
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| Run up on you wit' that carbon, empty clip into his necklace
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| They vicious!
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| Them bitches naked washin' dishes
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| She like my lifestyle, she say we live too relentless
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| Two thousand for my Gators, them bitches look itchy
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| Bitches got bunks and I’m rich like Donald Trump
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| Ridin' round wit' that pump, pockets look like a lump
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| Weed smellin' like skunk, blunts big as a stump
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| Bitches wan' fuck Young Thug and they wanna fuck uncle unc
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| Thugger not wit' the bullshit, baby, I just want fun
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| Ballin' all in the lobby, baby, I came up on midgets
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| Nah, we not gettin' pulled over but my whole crew got them tickets
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| Baby, I’m YSL, I know you come to the funeral
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| Nah, I’m not psychic but I got powers just like Yu-Gi-Oh!
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| I’m in the front of the line like the muhfuckin' hearse do
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| I know Thugga killed verse 1, I’m bout to kill verse 2
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| DK in the new Ferrari, damn, we ridin' round the lobby
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| We so high off life, and we ain’t got no fuckin' options
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| Reel them ducks in, we call it goin' fishin'
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| Washin' machine all that money, we call it cleanin' dishes
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| Makin' birds take a bath, we call it shavin' pigeons
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| And I ain’t PeeWee Longway but ya ho know I’m dealin'
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| Swear I’m cold-hearted, I don’t got no feelings
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| In that new drop top, I don’t got no ceiling
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| The roof is absent, ball like I got cancer
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| I’m the man in Atlanta, ask yo' favorite dancer |