| Yeah, this one right here
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| Is for those fly motherfuckers
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| All those motherfuckers get money
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| All those money makers
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| When you look in the mirror
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| And you confident, your cologne is on right
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| You smelling good, youknowhatimsayin'
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| You ready to go out on the town, knowhatimsayin'
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| It’s all like this, go get pretty like me
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| I rock Dolce and Gabbana, Pierre Cardan frames
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| Please, sunset windblows, pictures in the breeze
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| Diamond cufflinks on, banging on my sleeve
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| The studded engraved, solid gold L.A.'s
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| Turn up my nose, to all those people that hate
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| Cuz I create the dinner plates, the things they can’t
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| Mona Lisa’s on my wall, I splash the Rem', brand
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| Then dance the tango, with a rose in my teeth
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| See this Spanish fly mami, with a rosary bead
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| Hold her close to me, then I scuff my Gucci loafers
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| Through money on the oochie, she fuck me in the Rover
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| I bent her over, the butter soft ostrich
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| After that, we had, some, sushi with some chopsticks
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| We blew the Grand Canyon, the mansion with the tropics
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| The house was made of marble, waterfall, walk-in closets
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| She had the red hots, had me coming out my boxers
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| There’s no one in the city like me
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| No one gets gritty like me, homey
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| Big wheels spinnin' on D’s
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| Go get pretty like me, Goldie
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| You’re messin' with a real O. G
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| Ya’ll niggas, y’all gon' see, homey
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| No one gets gritty like me, Goldie
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| Go get pretty like me
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| In the Rolls, vintage clothes like the mobster
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| Take my hat off, hit the mic stand like Sinatra
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| Seats at the opera, whose the man behind the suit
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| Fireplace, on the mantle, the head of a moose
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| Analyze the truth, still slicin' all you snakes
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| The lady killer, license plate, icing on the cake
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| Drop, anchors of weight, more paper, acres of states
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| Exquisite taste, cigars dipped, in that
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| You’re strong back, Dom raps, time to bomb back
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| In fact, I’m giving hoes a back hand slap
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| Ain’t that, one of the ten commandments of rap
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| My feet tap like Sammy, drop your donation
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| Black and white bitches, Puerto Ricans and Haitians
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| With Playboy titties, in heavy rotation
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| Getting that paper, is my motivation
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| In the palm of my hand, I control the nation, baby
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| Don’t fuck with my bitches
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| Or you’ll leave in stitches, homey
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| Silky silky silk, da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da, Goldie |