| Knock knock, CuDi open up, it’s Chip
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| Gotta kush pack shells and some Henney we could sip
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| Keep a couple dolla’s on, give a penny to a bitch
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| But I’m wit a couple ho’s who said they really wanna get
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| Acquainted with some niggas who ain’t the average niggas
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| They just wanna see why all they girlfriends be wanting pictures
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| I be flyer then a hundred gnats, worth a hundred hundred-stacks
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| I ain’t gonna stop shoppin' till I hit a hundred sacks
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| Polo that’s a given I ain’t even gotta mention
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| Candy old-school put you niggas in detention
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| Slabbed niggas deeped-up tool in the clothes
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| I’m just a young fresh fly fool with some gold
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| Ay-ay, what it do my dude?
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| I’m living life, dawg, what about you?
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| And I ain’t even gotta tell a lie
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| My swag, my steez got a nigga sky-high
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| So I’m, watchin' my moves
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| From the shoes on the coupe
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| Be damned if a nigga ain’t high to the roof
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| Pimp tight get it right, homie, more or less
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| I gotta thank God I’m fresh
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| Oh, I rearrange faces when I drop
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| I’m super duper Cudi candy-paint the rag-top
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| Can’t nobody even tell me I don’t sip 'em when I lean
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| But get me to my fans, I’m country to the seas
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| Please, I stay up on my creep so to come up
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| Gotta look the part superstar, no stunnas
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| I’ma say some shit that make you think I lost my mind
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| I’m the only nigga that could watch the sun and don’t go blind
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| She fine as she wanna be, but she wanna check, though
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| Dodging and popping pictures like the ho’s was working with the law
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| Back in Shaker bitches, trynna play me to the left
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| Now I pick the hoes that I want and give my niggas what is left
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| I don’t know if it’s the name or the Bape gum bottoms
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| Keep them on salute them 501's you can’t knock 'em
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| Use to have the Honda with the thirty-day tags
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| That was in the past now I’m bout to throw 'em on the Jag
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| Ay-ay, what it do my dude?
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| I’m living life, dawg, what about you?
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| And I ain’t even gotta tell a lie
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| My swag, my steez got a nigga sky-high
|
| So I’m, watchin' my moves
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| From the shoes on the coupe
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| Be damned if a nigga ain’t high to the roof
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| Pimp tight get it right, homie, more or less
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| I gotta thank God I’m fresh |