| I whip up the brick with my left arm
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| My niggas slime, Yves Saint Laurent
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| Go to New York with my niggas, son
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| I sleep with the chopper, don’t need no alarm
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| Grass and the chickens, it look like a farm
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| Go around the city, I’m dropping off bombs
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| Fuck up my lick, I’ma cut out your tongue
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| I’ll be in Louis like Farrakhan
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| These niggas couldn’t hang where I come from
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| Everybody strapped where I come from
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| Everybody trap where I come from
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| 911 Porsche he got a bomb
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| Everybody on the fuck shit where I come from
|
| Gave a bomb to everybody where I come from
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| Everybody shopping where the plug come from
|
| You think they stopped making guns when they made yours?
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| I went to sleep, cut a leg with the chopper
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| Put one in the head of that yopper
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| Pull up in a Porsche 911
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| Go to New York, drop a big bomb
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| Trapper never been good at con
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| I made auntie put the house in pawn
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| Left pocket, that Notorious
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| Right pocket look like Big Pun
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| FN, they shoot like it’s ten guns
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| Hit the trap, I just raise funds
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| Trap or Die, nigga, this shit ain’t fun
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| I was young when I learned how to shoot a gun
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| I ain’t never been a son
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| Kicking shit, nigga, punt
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| Mix Hitech, Actavis, Tussin
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| Grape, cherry, banana fruit punch
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| I went through the back door, still waiting in the front
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| My family is strapped like the Brady Bunch
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| I put my junkie on the salary
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| She owe me $ 800 a month
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| Damier Louis swimming trunks
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| Etiquette like I came from France
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| Smelling like Yves Saint Laurent
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| I got a bad habit only fucking bitches once
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| I whip up the brick with my left arm
|
| My niggas slime, Yves Saint Laurent
|
| Go to New York with my niggas, son
|
| I sleep with the chopper, don’t need no alarm
|
| Grass and the chickens, it look like a farm
|
| Go around the city, I’m dropping off bombs
|
| Fuck up my lick, I’ma cut out your tongue
|
| I’ll be in Louis like Farrakhan
|
| These niggas couldn’t hang where I come from
|
| Everybody strapped where I come from
|
| Everybody trap where I come from
|
| 911 Porsche he got a bomb
|
| Everybody on the fuck shit where I come from
|
| Gave a bomb to everybody where I come from
|
| Everybody shopping where the plug come from
|
| You think they stopped making guns when they made yours?
|
| Dropped them bricks off in a Avalon
|
| Plug on the way, know he dropped off a ton
|
| DrugRixh, got my name from the slums
|
| Trapping on Candler, I serve out the bomb
|
| Twelve hit the spot, trying to handcuff my arm
|
| Send my J’s up to the marathon
|
| I cook it so good, said they here to get numb
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| I whip with the left, call it home run
|
| All of my niggas, they shooting for fun
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| Keep me the chopper, ain’t no way I’ma run
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| I’m the connect and your neighborhood plug
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| I started from scratch with a nic and a gun
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| Stuck in jail, called my girl for the bond
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| Trap on the block, even after the sun
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| For my young nigga, a stupid big bomb
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| Can’t love on no bitch 'cause the trap ain’t for 'em
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| I’m just trying to run my money up
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| The Percocet, lean, and a double cup
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| Going to strip clubs and fuck it up
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| This trap life, nigga, I live with the bomb
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| When the pack touch down, it’s a home run
|
| 'Cause a nigga trying to rob might get done
|
| With that baby choppa, F&N hand-gun
|
| From the dope hole, niggas straight from the slums
|
| I whip up the brick with my left arm
|
| My niggas slime, Yves Saint Laurent
|
| Go to New York with my niggas, son
|
| I sleep with the chopper, don’t need no alarm
|
| Grass and the chickens, it look like a farm
|
| Go around the city, I’m dropping off bombs
|
| Point out my lick, I’ma cut out your tongue
|
| I’ll be in Louis like Farrakhan
|
| These niggas couldn’t hang where I come from
|
| Everybody strapped where I come from
|
| Everybody trap where I come from
|
| 911 Porsche he got a bomb
|
| Everybody on the fuck shit where I come from
|
| Gave a bomb to everybody where I come from
|
| Everybody shopping where the plug come from
|
| You think they stopped making guns when they made yours? |