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otm - this is la lyrics

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[intro: blue pesos]
uh

[verse 1: blue pesos]
mei ling, i just chin strapped her
jibber jabber, blue’s a blabber mouth, we just b+tch slapped him
keep your stick on you, n+gga, this is la
a black belt from shootin’ chops, where my sensei?
i’m through that back door, hit him with a pump fake
rock and roll with it, elvis presley, time to hit the floor
jiggy with it, maneuver with my stiffler, i’m an evil villain
how many uchies you gon’ offer, what’s your proposition? (ron+ron, do that sh+t)
lock and load, aim with precision, knock his sloppy joe
red and blue lights, go faster ’cause the johnnies on us
silly opp, he thought this sh+t was sweet ’cause we in bossa nova
deep dished that n+gga, red beams, put some toppings on him

[verse 2: duffy]
go and tell your favorite rappers we just f+cked ’em over
shaneyney hangin’ with me, let me get to know her
ghetto boy, this forty ounce bounce, goin’ dumb and dumber
all this sh+t is regular to us, but it don’t be normal
n+gga
you know the stincs winnin’
n+gga, why you sittin’ on your ass? go and chase some chicken
hit him with the k, think that n+gga had an exorcism
.223s, i guess we both jordan, i hit him with pippen
n+gga, it’s the grim adventures
n+gga out his mind, he don’t think i’ma come with a stiffler
big n+gga talkin’ like he stupid, i made him get little
n+ggas always sugar coatin’ sh+t, if i said it, i meant it
[verse 3: blue pesos]
if it ain’t about the uchies or the fashion, ain’t fittin’ my interest
bro, why you tryna diss the stincs? n+gga, change them lyrics
stincs at the waves and the trench, just give up the gimick
you either know or you don’t, i ain’t bein’ specific
why you talkin’ ’bout them mansions?
hit him with a steel chair if n+ggas lackin’ they credentials
white sheets, chalk zone him, dispatcher get the stencil
pocket rocket blast off, what is war outside of missile?

[verse 4: duffy]
sh+t
ain’t they independent? how them lil’ n+ggas hawk me?
i only talk to ben frank, b+tch, do not call me
scorin’ like lamelo, had to show ’em i’m a big baller
get a n+gga whacked, he should’ve knew i was a shot caller
turned him to a pop locker, told him not to play with fire
you ain’t a stinc, stay at home, we ain’t f+ckin’ with outsiders

[outro: duffy]
n+gga
we ain’t f+ckin’ with no outsiders, n+gga
you know i can’t trust none of these n+ggas
f+ck
long live the ruler
you know the truth
n+gga
i ain’t f+ckin’ with no outsiders



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