| Back-back, give me fifty feet
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| We in the club, and we bout fifty deep
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| Club packed, from the front to the back
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| I’m in this bitch, on a blunt and some Yak
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| I see the chicks, finna get to bopping
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| And the trunks, finna get to popping
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| The big riders, finna get to watching
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| And all the haters, finna get to plotting
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| It’s finna be a fight, get out the way
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| Go to the trunk nigga, get out the K
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| We just trying to chill, and mack on hoes
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| And try to get 'em to the wide body, Lac on 4's
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| Me, Slim, Daily, Whodie
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| I’m Killa, if you ain’t know me
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| So stand still, and try to act tough black
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| Your ass better (move), and get the fuck back
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| All you fake pussy niggas, need to do me a favor
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| Before I fuck around, and do you pussy niggas a favor
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| Introduce you to my ignorant, most rudest behavior
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| Pull out my Glock, not just aiming at you but then blaze ya
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| So if ya tough get your nuts up, and try to come clown me
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| Homeboy I’m deep, got at least fifty mob niggas around me
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| That’s ready to ball, if I just give 'em the call
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| Tear this whole shit down, from wall to wall bitch
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| I’m higher than a cloud, so I’m trying to chill
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| In the club sipping Yak, with a pound of kill
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| Ice glistening off my neck, and all around my ear
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| So I stay getting chicks, all around the year
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| The fo' pound is near, I can’t sleep without it
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| Two words describe me, baby deep and bout it
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| He’s the hottest, no need to think
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| Cause I’ma hustle till I can’t baby, and bleed the bank
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| I’m a Boss Hogg soldier, I thought I told ya
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| You either gon roll with us, or get rolled the fuck over
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| Bitch get the fuck back, 'fore the Mack click-clack
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| And rat-a-ta-tat-tat, and put a hole in your hat
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| I feel like I’m being attacked, give me some space
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| Nigga, 'fore I give you seventeen in your face
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| Nigga, I got another seventeen on my waist
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| Pull seventeen out the safe, and get rid of the case
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| Ain’t no high speed chase, with the laws and the Outlawz
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| I just chill like it’s nothing, and give my lawyer a call
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| And tell him how I act, sure to give me some room
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| But you didn’t listen, so the Glock went boom
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| Hide your hoes, Slim Thug just stepped through the do’s
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| Uh-oooh, and he leaving with any bitch he chose
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| Try to stop him or cock block him, the left jab gon rock 'em
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| The right hook gon drop em, and the Glock nine gon pop 'em |