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[Verse 1 - B.o.B] You know who it is without a doubt of hesitation If money talks I got my masters in communication But you can’t hold a conversation Probably find me burning something good you can call that smoking aces Compliment the chef in the lab making greatness Ain’t a thing changed but the number on the statement NBA resume, baller’s my occupation Kush so loud I can’t hear what was you saying Praise yo solo that the freaks in the backseat Get a thrill off the alpine when it vibrate they ass cheeks I’m Bobby Ray baby an all American athlete I run and leap and jump and like a track meet Yeah that ought to do it Give it that Carl Lewis I got the magic baby call me George Lucas I’m so prolific but my flow’s so foolish These n*ggas making moves my n*ggas making movies wait
[Verse 2 - Playboy Tre] Wild like a crazy mic Clean like a baby wipe Y’all just a momma’s boy sleeping with a baby light My ex say I’m a d*ck cause my mind frame’s cocky Up in Beninhan’, drunk, drinking all the sake Damn right I want a double fried rice I’m getting bread I put my d*ck up in your face Your face’ll look like Stewie's head Girls call me Tre day I’m looking for pay day My squad’s got more bottle poppin’ n*ggas than the AA Liquor and wheelbarrow, foolish as Will Ferrell But I ain’t got a step brother, I f*ck your step mother I cussed cause I like it b*tch F*ck hoe motherf*cker You mad cause I’m balling, life is a motherf*cker Your son is a leprechaun, so hater live life a little New shit dropping soon “Patron & Instrumental” Til' then stay tuned, freak, and thanks for the hot gin It’s Tre, my flow won’t quit till I say it ends
[Verse 3 - B.o.B] Eastside on my arm, 3 stripes on my sneakers Don’t roll with pussy n*ggas, we call them vaginas That’s why your girl choosing dawg, pray I never meet her I tap her on the head and tell her you know the procedure You just mad with no b*tch cause I’m chilling with your b*tch She through out your mixtape but she knows my whole disc My flow’s sick, I’m a poet, Edgar Allan Poe shit Haters be getting defensive like 4th down and show blitz But I don’t punt it, I run it for a hundred Ever since I was a young ‘un, been hungry as Paul Bunyon I’m the shit so fix the plumbing I’m a beast in the game, Jumanji And if this ain’t what you call hip-hop it must be bungee jumping I’m smoking on hydroponic some of you call that chronic Hennessy in my vomit cause the night before jumpin’ Lil C got that beat bumping so you can hear me coming And my name’s Bobby Ray, Eastside of the A Just in case anybody was f*cking b*tch
[Verse 4 - Meek Mill] Oohh I’m a motherf*cking beast All my haters rest in peace I make a hundred on the Monday and go hard the rest of week Pray on n*ggas like a Sunday See your artist that’s a feast I got like 30 in the chalk I let you pussies catch a piece It was me and old Nelly, in the Scaglietti Bout to scoop these b*tches cause they say they past ready Swagger on the finish, I think I’m Andretti I push it to the limit get ‘em haters gassed heavy Wait a minute I’m a menace Shout out to the winners Jacket boy Louies like a flag before the finish I’m just getting started and n*ggas at they end And errbody say I’m hot but I’ve been hot from the beginning I be with a b*tch that looks like Kim Kardashian She ain’t on these n*ggas not by purpose but by accident Because I be laxin’ em, you n*ggas relaxing And the main reason I’m passing em like Michael Vick I'm faster than yo quarter back I bring that order back Ain’t f*cking with that weed, like where that water at Like where them purps n*gga Somebody order that Caught a couple cases, went to jail but I ain’t going back Free TIP!