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[Hook: Kid Ink] |
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I'm feeling like a man of the hour, tear down the house |
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Throwin' this money like it's no running out |
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Okay, but I wanna know, can you get any higher? |
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And drop it down the pole like it's a fire |
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Now let me see just what you're doing with your bad ass |
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I can't help but watch you move it with your bad ass |
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Let me see just what you're doing with your bad ass |
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I can't help but watch you move it with your bad ass |
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[Verse 1: Kid Ink] |
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I'm feeling like the man of the hour, host of the evening |
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But girl, this your show, now bring it back, rerun |
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I got pockets of hundreds, they say that change is irrelevant |
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Looking up in the sky I say I love watching you elevate |
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Get high as you ever been, we getting hella bent |
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Ball so hard, I deserve me a letterman |
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Now then let me see that cake, cake, cake, like Entenmann's |
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Ass up, gon' take it down like a sedative |
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That's a negative, ain't nobody wetter than |
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Better get familiar like a motherfuckin' relative |
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Know you see the fireworks, you looking where my section is |
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All this money falling in the air like it's confetti, bitch |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 2: Wale] |
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I'm the man of the hour |
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Money and power |
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And the humble ain't feed me so I got that Geechi shit out me |
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And the city is ours |
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Where the killers devour |
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Where the niggas lift Smith ands and the victims lift a few flowers |
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Okay what I see dog you and me not cool |
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Bet they be loud when I leave out room |
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Knowing how you move how you got good shoes |
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When the heat on niggas be like pyoom |
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Young nigga with some old riches |
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And the coldest women I be with weave on Necole Bitchie's |
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The broad let me I sweat it out like P90 get me doe |
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And I'm sure she's got them cakes but I'm trying to see that throat |
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35-o-o my coat |
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We high choking on that dope |
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Turn around girl let a nigga know |
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Double M Young Olu ghost |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 3: Meek Mill] |
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I'm feelin' like the man of the hour, host of the evening |
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These niggas is haters they know that we eatin' |
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I got a bitch she Jamaican, fuck her slow when we speackin' |
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I get your chick and I take her, talkin' Cabo for the weekend |
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I'm just a young nigga outchea ballin' |
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All these bad bitches callin' |
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Rollie all flooded to New Orleans |
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And a big Rolls Royces, can't park it |
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Got gold rims on my Ash Martin |
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And I'm rollin' up in that foreign |
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I said all my bitches half foreign |
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You could run tell that ask Martin, hold up |
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I flex hard on Instagram, post your bitch goin insta-ham |
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Pyrex pot that's insta-grams |
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Drop that work that's insta-bands |
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And I'm sittin' man, on a couple mill |
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Swear my life's so fuckin' real |
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Back to the wall like fuck the world |
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A nigga say fuck me, I'mma fuck his girl like woah |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 4: Kid Ink] |
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Now go ahead with that bad ass |
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And fast cash my dash pass |
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Them silicones and fat ass |
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Got cheese out, no rat trap |
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Real late night, no cat naps |
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You so acrobatic |
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Just move it 'til the bass slap |
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The bass slap like the Mac S |
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No question we turnt up, workin' on my fourth cup |
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Then throwin' all this money like the ass is for purchase |
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Very important persons, don't take it too personal |
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Got more bottles than homies, it's a movie |
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Ready for the show |
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[Hook] |