Wiz Khalifa young boy talk

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Uh huh
Sledgerin'
Look nigga, I'm the rawest, the motherfuckin' animal
Want war? One phone call is how I handle you
(Whew)
On the grind, you pussy nigga's hate
Bitch, I'm out in different states, politic and gettin' cake
Fill my lungs with the best weed, pockets with them dollar signs
Run with them niggas holdin' glocks like its Columbine
(Pop, pop, pop)
I'm a star, ain't a choice, hoe, I gotta shine
Far as Pittsburgh, I'm the voice so I gotta rhyme
Grind all the time ever since the 1st day
Now I'm gettin' cake like every day became my birthday
Something like a earthquake, the way this shit drop
I be at the tip top posted with a big knot
You didn't know, hoe, you sit at home and just watch
Less than haters, stone cold spectators
Same lame's turn out to be investigators
Nowhere near comfortable, need extra paper
Got the city on smash, the streets on lock
100 real niggas with their heats on cock
Got my pockets on swol', still need more gwap
Plus the hood says they love to hear the young boy talk
Ay, ay
The jeans spent about a buck 45 on them
If he trick the team, buck 45's on him
When we hit the scene, the club hoes just pile on him
You scrubs show them groupies love, I just style on them

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