Good Year
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Fuck, it's a bird No, no, it's a plane Cheers to a good year Cheers, light up! Harlem garden! You know what it is! Two words, good luck! Uh, uh, you ain't ready, I can see you nervous Cut the shit already, it ain't even worth it If it ain't about that feddi, it defeats the purpose (Why's that?) The nigga runa round with prezes like the Secret Service Bling! Rollie me on, Parmesan, let me cook the song Forty long, watch me call 'em out, no Pokemon Poking chrome, that be, that be what I'm smoking on, smoke the bomb, golden blond, I'm finna tag it goldie hawn But I can get you soft right on sight All types, my dealers be dealin to em all night Huh, when you're in the building it's a small fight Your clothes must come with feelings cause they're all tight Right, I'll be on my grind, I need all to pay Your wify blowing up my line, take the phone away, please! Who is dope as J, I'm dope as any dope you take The smoke you lace, at the record labels with the poker face. Chorus: Riding next quiet kept, I'm the best And all for what? Let me speak to who gonna write the check! Cause... who the hell is son in all these niggas Even good you know, man I'm getting tired of all these niggas Panamara, black carrara. Jack Herrer and I'm smoking out of that vanilla Smack these other thinking about myself Who the hell is son in all these niggas Even good you know, man, I'm getting tired of all these niggas Long gone! Shorty got respect! You play with me, you die to death Baby, we supply the best, and hating me is a side effect Your ladies say you got that tired sex Out of breath, you don't hit it right, and that's maybe why she left! Yeah you vex, well I hit the project steps, a thousand pills all in the P just what I call the project X I pop up on them rims and make the tires stretch And keep my watch on in the gym because it's time to flex Flex, flexing on them like I body built You know why you ain't got a deal That's cause you're not the deal, at all Stop the grill, I'm getting to them dollar bills Whip yellin, and I'm hot for real ...told me I gotta chill A brother cracked, I know you heard about 'em It's funny that we call him tracks, I run them circles around him So why shine? Losing all these suckers at the same damn time I'm the future, mother fucker! Chorus: Riding next quiet kept, I'm the best And all for what? Let me speak to who gonna write the check! Cause... who the hell is son in all these niggas Even good you know, man I'm getting tired of all these niggas Panamara, black.. Jack Herrera and I'm smoking out of that vanilla Smack these other thinking about myself Who the hell is son in all these niggas Even good you know, man, I'm getting tired of all these niggas
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