[Verse 1: Reek Da Villain]
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Aye yo weak minded bitches fall victim because my charm's strong jazzy pair of louis on my feet Chewy Armstrong
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Ma couldn't be my cheerleader with platinum pom-poms she the type to misrepresent a king like Lebron's mom
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Beating on my chest with a crown King Kong Don Langston Hughes I write a poem that do the Bible psalms harm
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These other rappers want problems then bring it on umm this rapping beef is nothing my studio's in it's long form and all cowards'll become victims of man
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Keep a 5th of Remy and a stick of piff in my hand yeh they fly but I'm a pilot that no one can understand plus the way I go ham'll make a Muslim say damn
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Hustle hard trips to Miami for three days so I can meet with the connects and get the D Wade run up in the Gucci store and drop 3k you bum I could get your whole outfit out of BJ's
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Lyrical scientist leaving mics with psoriasis so it's {bleeped} as Michael Myer's psychiatrist pyrics suppliacist who being lying stiff when the iron spits I come alone just me and one 9 Johnny {Unitis}
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And let my bitch serenade through these slums and blow so much loud I need a hearing aid for my lungs
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And as far as metaphors rate this I was a snail 'til haters threw salt on me and I dissolved into greatness
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[Verse 2: 2 Chainz]
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What goes around comes around like a hula hoop. Hair weave killa I'll show up to your funeral
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All this work I need a cubicle. Clear coat cuticle. Different color diamonds like a rubrics cube
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If this was New Edition, I'll be Bobby Brown. Put the check over your head and call it Nike Town
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How could I be down? Free Boosie, wipe me down. My credit card is black and proud
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I've been trapping since roxies had the ankles out. I'm going to the money and I took the paper route
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Uh Yeh, I'm hood approved and I'm street tested. You a nobody; anorexic
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If you stay next to me you're close to a blessing. So, I'm guessin' I could get arrested for aggravated flexin' with all this ice on. My mic on, I apply pressure like a python. And everybody know this that body flow; bench press, cardio. They try to cramp a nigga style like a Charlie horse
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Yeh, they plot on you, and they drop on ya. I put a Glock to your eye and call it glaucoma
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Bow! From 30 nights of sipping dirty Sprite. I call this shit Bluetooth because I don't need a mic. 2Chainz
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Uncut Cypher
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2 Chainz |