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letra de classic - 2 eleven, jay worthy & boldy james

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[intro: 2 eleven]
yeah, million-dollar game spitter
you know the [?] stake going up
recession-proof, n-gga
ten different incomes, you know what i’m saying?
we don’t feel none of that sh-t
i stay grinding though

[verse 1: 2 eleven]
been around the world twice, running up this mileage
i been putting this sh-t on, i ain’t never need no stylist
she just tryna win, heard that p-ssy got some mileage
i’m digging in the game, tryna see where i could profit
went from trappin’ out the projects to n-ggas droppin’ projects
how your watch worth a buck without no diamonds?
yeah, i rap the new dope game and we uppin’ all the prices
’cause the fеds using lyrics for indictments
ain’t no pressure, i know what i signеd up for
and everything that come with it, i know these n-ggas cutthroat
when you self-made, they gon’ hate you with the utmost
and playing both sides, watch, n-ggas gon’ end up smoked
‘bron james how i’m busting these plates
and doors on the rolls truck open opposite ways
for a name, she’ll go opposite ways
and ’round here, a day in the life might get you life in a day
[verse 2: boldy james]
cs in the bentayga, they red in a douche rag
they say you a douchebag, the patty cake blue in his new flag
he hid two in the broom closet, just fronted out two slabs
(two-step the blow) but my wrist doin’ the schoolcraft
this ain’t [?] you can’t style me, no, we can’t polly
and jay [?] you know i’m heavy on the state mile
my chain [?], i’m driving with my knee twistin’ up the tree
working three phones while i’m lane-switching
we serving js up ’til thirty in the morning
full-coverage insurance, ridin’ dirty in a foreign
sweaters and lean, nah, this ain’t no liz claiborne
my whip d-mn near equivalent to eighty pints of acorn
on our side, it’s the [hard?] side, this where the pills blue
land of milk and honey but the money reek of mildew
cartier-starin’ at the world through my rearview
flyin’ up the lodge, dropping lines in my clear fruit

[verse 3: jay worthy]
these b-tches ain’t sh-t, they only loyal to the money
and these n-ggas no different, i can’t f-ck with you, homie
catch me riding by my lonely with a cup full of dom p
play this sh-t only, smoke and blast ’til the eyes itch
we in medellín, probably where they might find me
got the bartel with me, wish a n-gga would try me
throwing money, drink and rum, knockin’ hoes at the island
no toosi, no poosi, well f-ck it, we wildin’
i suu the the woo, ho, but i ain’t from charlotte
i suu like the woo, ho, i’ll take you to bompton
put her on a plane, we ain’t do too much talkin’
take you out the slums to penthouse ‘partment
throw some yay on the table, have a penthouse table
no neighbors on my floor, ho, i’m penthouse-worthy
if i kick for a week, h-ll yeah, she’ll be working
no stripper, no twerking, advanced with the working
it’s p

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