Ft. Styles P
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[Intro]
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They ain¡¯t high as us
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Niggas lying to ya
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They ain¡¯t high as us
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There¡¯s more money to get, cars to park
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Bitches to break, wars to start
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I¡¯m still living my life
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There are no stars
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Way out here, it¡¯s only us, dog
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Niggas ain¡¯t high as us
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Lying to ya
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[Verse 1: Curren$y]
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Uh, undetected by radar
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Close circuit track, endurance laps, race cars
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You niggas just say y¡¯all
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Doing that shit, I been into it nigga, play ball
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Junior varsity don¡¯t want no parts of me, triple O
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I just drive like that to protect my rims, I ain¡¯t slow
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Tell me it¡¯s ¡¯bout a check, you¡¯ll see how fast it go
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That drug dealer flow, George Gervin, ice cold
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Finger roll with that pen, I turn that paper into gold
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Axl Rose through the bowls in my Rolls
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Through the concrete you see a rose still rose
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Counted up a million dollars ¡®fore that sun rose
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Spitting game for the Range, dropping tracks for the racks
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In the booth of the crib with the boat docks in the back
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With them automated gates, remote control¡¯s in my lap
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¡¯84 riding, I did that for my lifers
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[Hook]
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Yea, uh
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It¡¯s more money to get, cars to park
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Bitches to break, wars to start
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I¡¯m still living my life
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There are no stars
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Way out here, it¡¯s only us, dog
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(Way out here)
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[Verse 2: Styles P]
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Way out here, you can feel the ambiance
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Hundred thousand dollar, these bottles of Dom Perignon
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Keep the ? you popped your cherry on
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White CL Benz, ? I throw my cherries on
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I think about money yea a lot of money
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I¡¯m speaking lotto money, Abu Dhabi money
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Same old stoner, yea I¡¯m blowing loud
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You can grow weed but I can exhale and grow a cloud
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You ain¡¯t real high, you mid-level
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Smoking on that shit we let the kids peddle
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I made a couple M¡¯s off what them kids peddle
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Speak on my name wrong, bet you see them kids¡¯ metal
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Blast for me, is a blasphemy
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Say the realest nigga alive, I think you asked for me
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I¡¯m jet-setting with my nigga Spitta
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We like to speak paper and it¡¯s getting thicker
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WOH
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Curren$y |