Smoke DZA, DOM KENNEDY - Duplex lyrics
[Smoke DZA, DOM KENNEDY - Duplex lyrics]
I don’t argue over dumb shit
Back of Barneys top floor on my lunch shit
Chicken salad don’t mind that we here
Make a purchase or two then we disappear
Hand rug exec mindset and thug
The Jay 305
Ooo I see they got you standing in
Slide me the Crown kid
This shit poison like Bell Biv DeVoe
These little rappers can’t fuck with me
I quote i trained ‘em all like Freddie Roach
You want a building start banging
Guess that’s the cost of being famous
I remember you was more cool than that
I used to be around the
Ones that could shoot craps
My niggas ran out with the
Ralph outta TJ Maxx
Creatine in the beats let me hit the abs
Buy yourself a duplex get your chick a Jag
I got the next hundred years
Yea it’s simple math
Fuck what you claim this rap shit is lame
Don’t even own nothing not even yo name
Can’t go through formulas the label gets paid
6’1" and a half and I don’t play no games
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Kings handle business we don’t pout about it
If nothing else, make sure the ounce exotic
I live in the mouth of goddess
Walk around looking like a house deposit, uh
Too many niggas, had to bounce, was crowded
If only all these daps
Could amount to product
Uh, I guess I’m guess I’m wishful thinking
I never compromise my brand
With risky instincts
Might cuff the whole plate
Oversize tees youngins the whole K
Businessmen sitting business class
Six hour flight and I slept the whole way
Don’t hate doggie, be better
I don’t dwell ‘less I i’m on bullshit time
Arm warmed up, out the bullpen flying
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Back of Barneys top floor on my lunch shit
Chicken salad don’t mind that we here
Make a purchase or two then we disappear
Hand rug exec mindset and thug
The Jay 305
Ooo I see they got you standing in
Slide me the Crown kid
This shit poison like Bell Biv DeVoe
These little rappers can’t fuck with me
I quote i trained ‘em all like Freddie Roach
You want a building start banging
Guess that’s the cost of being famous
I remember you was more cool than that
I used to be around the
Ones that could shoot craps
My niggas ran out with the
Ralph outta TJ Maxx
Creatine in the beats let me hit the abs
Buy yourself a duplex get your chick a Jag
I got the next hundred years
Yea it’s simple math
Fuck what you claim this rap shit is lame
Don’t even own nothing not even yo name
Can’t go through formulas the label gets paid
6’1" and a half and I don’t play no games
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Kings handle business we don’t pout about it
If nothing else, make sure the ounce exotic
I live in the mouth of goddess
Walk around looking like a house deposit, uh
Too many niggas, had to bounce, was crowded
If only all these daps
Could amount to product
Uh, I guess I’m guess I’m wishful thinking
I never compromise my brand
With risky instincts
Might cuff the whole plate
Oversize tees youngins the whole K
Businessmen sitting business class
Six hour flight and I slept the whole way
Don’t hate doggie, be better
I don’t dwell ‘less I i’m on bullshit time
Arm warmed up, out the bullpen flying
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style
Don’t copy my style don’t copy my style