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[Intro:]
We gon' knock this right out
We gon' skate to one song and one song only n***a!

Yeah!

[Verse:]
Really?
Fu***n' “Condom Style”? “Get your jig on”?
You a clown-a** n***a, put a wig on
N***a I be goin H. A. M. Till the pig gone
All this ice around my neck, I got a fridge on!
Body Cass, put 'em in a body bag
Broke n***a, we should put you in a bodycast
Real n***a, all I know is get a lot of cash
I took you hater n****s spot that's why you prolly mad!
My story, all guts, glory
Posted on the corner, Glock. 40 tucked on me
20 years on me, me and my army
Feelin' like none of y'all n****s can harm me
I came from the bottom where they never make it at
With all my jewels on they ain't never takin' that
There's rules to the game I ain't never breakin' that
And once you give a statement, n***a, you can never take it back
You lame part of the game, n***a pardon the fame
I got 30 in my clip I can park in your frame
Plus this Rollie on my wrist cost some cars and change
We talking bike life, 'bout to put a park in my name
Just to ride on you n****s, or slide on you n****s
G550 when we glide on you n****s like
Clyde on you n****s, homicide on you n***a
I ain't never had no rap, had no ties to you n****s, so
Why you suckas hatin' and talkin' 'bout what I'm makin'?
When I be out in Jamaica and ballin' like I'm like a Laker
It's givers and it's takers, these n****s is gettin faker
And I'm just gettin' richer I wake up and get my cake up!
Black Maserati, chinchillas from Papi
Ten killers beside me, all lookin' like ahkis
I remember nights on corners with beef and broccoli
Rice and gravy, now it's crazy cause Phillipe's got me
All gold ap, same watch as Jay-Z
Ballin' like I'm kd, how can n****s play me?
If you ain't talkin' money n***a f**k you, pay me
Drophead with the top down and the A. C.
On, drawn, f**k is y'all doin'
I'mma king you a pawn, lil n***a I'mma Don
The coke price high, it cost 40 for a jawn
And like 20 for a half lil n***a do the math
And you talkin' bout a battle rap, how you gon' handle that?
100 grand p***y n***a, you ain't got the tab for that
You ain't got the stacks for that, you the one we laughin' at
You ain't got half of that, they pump you up: Asthma attack
Bye clown, calm down 'fore you make me bomb now
F*****g all these superstars like “Who Meek Milly bomb now?”
Went from driving Bentleys to going half on pie pounds
You n****s need to die down, Philly n***a: my town
I heard your car got re-poed
But this is bike life boy you just got Deebo'd
Them Twitter n****s f*****g with your ego
You in the field tryna turn to God like Tebow
Naw that won't work n***a, that'll get you murked n***a
All-black Ghost n***a, looking like a hearse n***a
Been a dead man, so I'mma dig you out the Earth n***a
Just to stuff your skeleton right back into the dirt n***a
What you made this year? What you worth n***a?
I dropped “Dreams & Nightmares, ” I made church n***a
I did “I'ma Boss, ” youngin' set the summer off
Man these old n****s mad at me cause they fallin' off!
Ha! Get your hate on Cass
And we ain't talking larceny cause they all trash
And your goons ain't riding witcha, they all mad
Cause you ain't never put no food up in ar abs
My dog killed a body for ya, damn he didn't eat from it
Now you mad at Swizz cause you can't get a beat from him
Once my n****s coming at you dog, we gon' keep comin'
We ain't no Forest Gump n***a, better keep runnin'
D. C. N***a, you P. C. N***a
While you was scared, I was eatin' chichi n***a
Talking to Tip about how we gon' beast these n****s
All I know is bang bang, like that Chief Keef n***a
Got a matte black Aston, gold rims on it
B***h looking like it got a pair of Timbs on it
Cashmere sweater, bunch of Jims on it
All my guns come with extends on it
Duck? And hit up, tuck n***a you lit up
Cause you looking like food my youngins ready to get up
Call you for a verse and tell you to write some s**t up
Boom, high stick up, jumping all out the pick up, woah

[Outro:]
You know you f****d up right?
The “hustla”
You know you f****d up right?
Man I ain't doing this s**t no more with you nut a** n****s
I came in the game, I ain't even signed a year n***a
I got more money than all you hatin' a** old n****s put together
Y'all n****s ain't do s**t!
Talkin' all this Philly s**t
Y'all n****s ain't put no foreigns out here n***a
All my n****s drive foreigns!
My n****s don't even rap and drive better cars than you n****s
Coon copped that 'Rari, you don't feel sorry for these b***h a** rappers!
You can't come to Philly no more!
And not even because of this, you was never comin' to Philly
You been living here eight years you p***y a** n***a!



Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/m/meek_mill/repo.html

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