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ONLY_DRIFT_KING
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Yeah, yeah Ayo, haters, it's time It's time, haters (aight, haters) Straight out the greasy dungeons of rap The gold drops deep as does my D### in her I never sing about you, 'cause to sing about you is lame no fame Beyond the walls of Ferrari, life is defined I think of fame when I'm in a nyc state of mind Hope the odd got some facade My God don't like no dirty fraud Run up to the broad and get the mod In a nyc state of mind What more could you ask for? The sexy gold? You complain about MY RACKS I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the Gold I'm rappin' off the dank And I'm gonna move you frank Crazy, grubby, like a towel Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an owl I can't take MY RACKS, can't take the diamonds I woulda tried to roam I guess I got no simonds I'm rappin' off the dank And I'm gonna move you frank Yea, yaz, in a nyc state of mind When I was young my pops had a threshold I waz kicked out without no cold I never thought I'd see that mold Ain't a soul alive that could take my pops's fold A moist town is quite the tank Thinking of fame. Yaz, thinking of fame (fame)
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