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Wallabies & Gucci Loafers
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Ghostface Killah
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Okay, okay Okay, okay (Okay, lord knows) Light down, no Nikés, Gucci nightgown (Sheesh) Three choppers pre-rolled, we sippin' light brown Crazy Louie and my lady got a baby Uzi (Brrt, brrt, brrt) We makin' movies, eatin' grapes inside a shaped jacuzzi (Ah, ah, ah) Ragged leathers, I'm grimy with fat cheddar (Fat cheddar) Thinkin' 'bout my broke days (Broke days) High and the bad weather (Let's go like) They hatin' on me privately (Ah) I ate her on the balcony (Woo) She waited for her majesty (Woo) I'm kickin' but they doubted me (Ah-ah) Doubted me plus they pocket-watching Smooth like Dionne Warwick (Dionnе Warwick) Used to be on raw sh*t, moving cautious All that bullsh*t, can see I'm off it And she look good with thе club lights on (Huh?) Diamonds are forever but the love last longer Yellow Timbs with the sweats Good gems on her neck (Neck) Picked me up when I was down Real friends don't forget (No) Twistin' while I chef Big pistol on deck (Brr), while I call the connect (Brr) In I roll sippin' coffee (Coffee) Get these ho' b*t*hes off me (Off me) Even on the road doin' shows with the possé We eatin' Hibachi (Hah) Yeah, yeah Yeah, uh-huh, yo The fragrance some soaked in this like Barry White's neck b*t*hes flockin', wanna f**k me off a light sweat Pinky ring, Tom Selleck joints, harry chest, toned Even when I'm gettin' my d**k sucked, I still get the phone Blankets, big robes, gold pots on the big stove Cocaine [?] limbs 'cause I been cold Quiet storm, Lenny Green in my BLS voice VSO, shoot out platinum flacons in France In a chopped Royce Gettin' chauffeured in Gucci loafers My name's written in script In bedroom pillows, worldwide chef sellin' Who can whip the best brick? It's Tone, T-O to the N-E Killed the game from the moment he sent me Me and my girl Pam Grier and Goldie woke up Two-hundred thousand link on a neckpiece Goldie, you know, I need a man, you know? I need somebody in my corner, man, you know? Not-not just because I'm [?] man, but somebody to be there Do you think I'm wrong? No, I don't think you're wrong at all (Marci, yo, Flee, what up? Uh) Help me then, Goldie Bad b*t*hes cat-called, that's backwards, dawg (Uh) Can't imagine being blackballed Shots go back and forth like we playin' paddleball Long 'fore a n***a ever had a song, I was addin' to the catalog (Uh) Made a splash in the game, I ain't even yell "Cannonball" (Splash) I had the Patek on with the motherf**kin' waterfall (Uh) I'm in a 4-door with the .44 listenin' to 4:44 (Woo) You get what you had called for 'Fore the .40 hit the floor I was off Probably up in Club 40/40 with a whore To break course like 40 when it's off To make a long story short I don't even talk, I just put numbers on the board I can make your raw summersault I can make you a corpse, I can make you throw a gutterball (Strike) Uh, either way, you gettin' f**ked (Yuh) Let my heaters spray to get a buck Even as a teenager I was buck (Uh) Wild as f**k with the gun Me and my son, we was lookin' like five and Buck Could of been point guard for the Bucks Thank God when it rung I had my guard up (Woo) The palm made him flip like a fish out of water The body wash up somewhere down in Florida n***a, Marci n***a Hey Rem, what is your philosophy of life, Rem? Live until you're dead
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