| O.G. |
| Don Ke, the legend Devin the Dude
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| Riding high, this for your mind man
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| Brain food, (feeling like I always should)
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| I ride, and get high
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| I get by with the thangs I got, I smoke and I drink a lot
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| But I try, to maintain
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| And slow down, but I end up doing the same thang
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| I’m in the baking soda Benz, with the gold rag
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| Just left the coffee shop, blowing on a whole bag
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| I’m on some other shit, maintain and keep it hood
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| Smoking California, riding by and feeling good
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| You know that drank high, but niggaz still buy
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| I’m on some money shit, reaching for the whole sky
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| I’m in the lab, writing rhymes with a tall cup
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| The speakers banging, the whole room fogged up
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| Sour diesel in the morning, for my stress ways
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| Get a sip of O.G., for my best days
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| Cloud nine, on the stage homie start the show
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| I hear them voices in my head, saying please let go
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| Slow it down, put my habits on cruise control
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| But I’m hustling, need something to sooth the soul
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| Rest in peace, to them boys who got a lullaby
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| God forgive me, I’m still here riding high
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| I creep you by death slow, I got weed in my whip so
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| I’m constantly rolling and smoking, but I seldom slip though
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| Inside fresh, like the plans for my future
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| Don’t have my hands on a ruger, I’m not a man that’ll shoot ya
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| I’d rather get the party crunk, fuck it bring the drinks in
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| Call up some hoes, and hmm tell em bring friends
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| Light up an inscent, but the weed gon' blast through
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| Cause everybody got a different, kind of what have you
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| We hitting it getting it in, shit’s in the wind
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| When you try to give up, somebody fire up again
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| And you can’t pretend, when the weight is on your shoulder
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| And you start getting older, and feel you need to hold up
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| You can grow up, but never grow old
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| And let go, when you ain’t having fun no mo'
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| Nigga chill, better live until you die
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| That’s why, I’m riding high
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| Chasing down that money
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| Days ain’t always sunny, I get by
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| Trying to stay in the zone
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| In a lane on my own, I get high |