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to the Grammy Awards, ha ha

You wouldn't get far, fuckin' them rap stars
You know who you are, put your hands up ladies
You wouldn't get far, if you kept your
to the Grammy Awards, ha ha

You wouldn't get far, fuckin' them rap stars
You know who you are, put your hands up ladies
You wouldn't get far, if you kept your
I'm saying, the vet, not the pet
Dig this here man
Like my nigga Cashball, you know what I'm saying, me and DeAnte say
Man, it's "stacks, tracks
Uhh! Check it out, yo; it's called, uh, well, uh
"K Sera Sera," whatever will be will be
And the track is kinda in there, so lemme bust a li'l
A li'l
But if you feel me, throw your bows up (Star Track)
Try to set up shop get glowed up
Hey, I'm the candyman, I got mo' than frozen cups
I got your
petals at my feet man!
They want to spoil me, treating me like royalty,
What I'm supposed to do? It's such a sweet thing
Work that track, whip 'em like
jimmy kimmel
In that palmagranted slam with that roof convert
Five stars under the skirts call it famous foot work
That cali is active when lil kekee got
Food stamps and WIC
'til my folks worked themselves rich (this track's making me sick)
If you want to compare me like white Lil' Kim female cool Keith
in the party women jump for joy
But all the wild niggaz scheamin they gon' jump the boy
for spittin all that bourgeoise, my watch, my car
I'm a star
Uhh! Check it out, yo; it's called, uh, well, uh
"K Sera Sera," whatever will be will be
And the track is kinda in there, so lemme bust a li'l
A li'l
Still running, bound to build something
Even though we all surrounding by hills crumbling
Lil young'n, we kill assumption
Come hit us up, you wanna
we had to touch the beat cause the track is dope, nigga
And throw some bullet's at you the size of cantaloupes, nigga
A lot of niggas rolling around
Turn up with Lil Yachty
Thugger, Thugger, babe
Trouble Man, aka T.I.P., yeah
Bankroll Mafia, YSL, Lil Duke, slat
R.I.P. to Troupe

You better
for joy
But all the wild niggas schemin' they gon' jump the boy
For spittin' all that bourgeoise, my watch, my car
I'm a star, I'd rather be a comet
throwin rose petals at my feet mayn!
They want to spoil me, treatin me like royalty;
what I'm 'sposed to do? It's such a sweet thang
Work that track
[Luda]
Ow! Track-stars woo...hey... DTP
Let's Go
[Chorus: Bobby v]
She's dangerous,(Uh huh) super. (OK)
Better watch out she'll take ya cash.
get out of it
Any and all should fall, many are small should call
Naughty By Nature the creator of all y'all
Show hope, show no hope and can't cope,
(talking)
Houston, Texas, the third largest city in the U.S.A.
We really off the hook, we off the chain man

[Lil' Keke]
No doubt, off the rip, ain't
not the pet
Dig this here man
Like my nigga Cashball, you know what I'm saying, me and DeAnte say
Man, it's "stacks, tracks and contracts," you know
on a mill, but I'm pimpin still
Riding round the track, like Goldie in the Mack
Still I'm Don Coreleone pimping hoes from my realm
Mesmerized by the words
can't Best Buy 'em
These niggas that I roll with
Don't let a single thing get by 'em
King pins and them drug lords
Chi-town, no gun laws
Broke bitches
that chronic sack and that's a fact
My nigga hit me and we dropped an ounce
Stopped by the store, got some Swishers now it's time to bounce
When we got
distorting, bring it down a lil' bit
Okay, now we working with it
The boy Face on the bass line, Face - Mob!
Welcome to New York City, it's ya boy Young Hov'
see if I don't fuck you up
Tryin to jump the Ruff Ryders and they cut you up
And you put Jada on a track that's how much you suck
Dick in
She's a party star, runs the bar
Got a four-wheel drive and a little sports car
She hits the track, loves to ball
She rides on the back of a hog
She