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Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Posted watchin' "One Tree Hill" wit' yo' mama (Whoa)
She made lasagna, I think it's Jane Fonda (Fonda)
When the mornin' comes, she make breakfast burritos
Heavy on la pica, she call me Suavecito (Ooh, girl)
Me and Engels in the lab like Dexter (Whoa)
Got your bitch comin' through to play some checkers
I ain't even gotta text her, well known flexer (Whoa)
I might dunk up on yo' bitch, Sam Dekker (Bling)
[Verse 2]
I send yo' bitch a fax, wake up and smell the racks (Whoa, whoa)
Pourin' Colt 45 up in my Apple Jacks (Splash)
I eat some snacks, I pull off in the 'Lac (Ooh, girl)
Bitch, I might just pipe yo' bitch to some Nickelback
[Verse 3]
You can say I'm flexing, your girl texting 'cause my wrist reflecting (Ice)
Bad bitch selection, thicker than a Houston Texas (Whoa)
Don't be comin' round with that hocus-pocus (Whoa)
I been fuckin' focused, ridin' in that Ford Focus or the Lotus
Ay, thotties swarmin' like locusts
Ay, it ain't hard to notice that your Gucci belt is bogus (Whoa)
Boy, that's atrocious, gravy so ferocious (Whoo, shit)
Yo' bitch bought me roses, now she comin' through for some osmosis
[Verse 4]
I send yo' bitch a fax, wake up and smell the racks (Whoa, whoa)
Pourin' Colt 45 up in my Apple Jacks (Splash)
I eat some snacks, I pull off in the 'Lac (Ooh, girl)
Bitch, I might just pipe yo' bitch to some Nickelback
Written by: Matthew Hauri
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