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(feat. Rick Ross & Nicki Minaj) |
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[Intro: Meek Mill] |
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There's three types of ********s in life |
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********s that make it happen |
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********s that watch it happen |
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And ********s that don't even know what the ******** is going on |
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Choose one... |
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[Verse 1: Meek Mill] |
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I got all these bad ******* twerkin’ |
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Waves on swim, ********t surfin’ |
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I don’t wanna yall ********s ‘round me |
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Broke ********s make me nervous |
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Shawty said she want that paper |
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Pop ******** like she workin’ |
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Damn, a ******** finally famous |
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Rari by the Benz, I’m swervin’ (SKR SKR!, SKR! SKR!) |
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******** rap, I might sell swag |
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She want me ‘cause she know I got that Chanel tag |
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She ******** me and she gone get that Chanel swag |
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Her boyfriend like, “Where you get that Chanel bag?” |
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55 hundo, pop green, and I ball |
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Like Rondo |
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Catch me, North-South, with a dime ho |
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Turnt up, but I’m like keep calm ho |
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I go, make a million here, million there |
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All of my ********s, we really in here |
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Got a bad ********, and she straight from the hood |
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But she look like a foreign, brazilian hair |
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And I’m grabbin' her remi |
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I bust like a semi, yo ******** (BA BA!) |
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I get your girl pregnant |
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You hatin’ all on me, you sick (HA HA!) |
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I ride in my hood in a Bently like it’s a Crown Vic (SKR SKR!) |
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These ******* is choosin’ |
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You ********s is losin’ |
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We rich |
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Whatchu expect? |
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(Haah?) |
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[Hook: Meek Mill] |
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Wanna ******** with a **** dealer? |
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Or keep ******’ them broke ********s? |
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And I don’t ******** with you ho ********s (NAH!) |
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Rollie yellow like Homer Simpson |
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That’s ****, ********! |
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[Verse 2: Nicki Minaj] |
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I got all these **** dealers serving |
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Cut the work up, they surgeons |
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I don't want y'all ******* 'round me |
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Whack ******* make me curve 'em |
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Imported rug, that's Persian |
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One wheel up and we swervin' |
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Wetter than a lake, that's Ricki! |
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Pop ******** like she Nicki |
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She want me cause she see me in that Aventador |
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Pull up on the curb so crazy, I done bent the door |
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Bad ******** wanna borrow it, I lent it to her |
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Make her bust that ******** open in Singapore |
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30 million though, Forbes list |
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Out in Philly in a condo, boss ********t |
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Now they call me Young Oprah; Harpo |
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In the pool rockin' polo, Marco |
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Millionaires, never do leers |
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No, they can't see me, they're never my peers |
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Fruits of my labor, go get me my pears |
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Cause you're outta your element; I am your fear |
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So go get off my ********, pardon my decimal, ********! |
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Check up my resumé, I'm upper echelon rich |
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Them bikes is out and we throwing 'em up like we sick |
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My clothing line is out in them stores and I'm sipping a Myx |
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********! |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 3: Rick Ross] |
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DC, Double M |
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Mastermind |
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Say my name and ******** I gotta grant your wish (BOSS!) |
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Sticky fingers, 30 K |
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You better drop that brick (drop that brick) |
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Philly brothers, sometimes they call me Ock! (call me Ock!) |
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I pray to God, everyday I drop my top (Thank you Lord!) |
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Humble man, with me and the Lord Meek |
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I'm the ********t, coming down Broad Street |
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"Sal" Magluta, "Willy" Falcon |
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Flamboyant dough boy, talkin' Al Capone (ROZAY!) |
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From Monte Carlo to Los Muchachos |
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My Mexicanos not talking tacos |
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This jewelry tampered once, a ******** push that button |
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On the corner Pac-Man Jones, these ********s don’t want nothin' |
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You wanna ******** wit a **** dealer? Or keep ******' them broke ********s? |
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My sneaker deal like A.I.'s |
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We drink Belaire like St. Ides |