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    SANATÇI KANYE WEST
    ALBÜM CRUEL SUMMER

    CLIQUE

    KANYE WEST

    CANLI RADYO
    What of the dollar you murdered for?
    Is that the one fighting for your soul?
    Or your brother's the one that you're running from?
    But if you got money, fuck it, 'cause I want some
    B-I-G, who fuckin' with me?
    Oh, God! Whoa, okay

    Ain't nobody fuckin' with my clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    Ain't nobody fresher than my muh'fuckin' clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    As I look around, they don't do it like my clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    And all these bad bitches, man
    They want the-, they want the-

    (B-I-G, oh God! Go)
    I tell a bad bitch do whatever I say
    My block behind me, like I'm coming out the driveway
    It's grind day, from Friday to next Friday
    I been up straight for nine days, I need a spa day (spa day)
    Yup, she tryin' to get me that poon-tang
    I might let my crew bang, my crew deeper than Wu-Tang
    I'm rollin' with... fuck I'm saying? Girl, you know my crew name
    You know 2 Chainz? Skrrr!
    I'm pullin' up in that Bruce Wayne
    But I'm the fuckin' villain
    Man, they kneelin' when I'm walking in the buildin'
    Freaky women I be feelin' from the bank accounts I'm fillin'
    What a feelin'! Ah man, they gotta be
    Young player from the D
    That's killing everything that he see for the dough

    Ain't nobody fuckin' with my clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    Ain't nobody fresher than my muthafuckin' clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    As I look around, they don't do it like my clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    And all these bad bitches, man
    They want the-, they want the-, they want

    (Click clack, stick 'em up!)
    Yeah, I'm talkin' Ye, yeah, I'm talkin' Rih
    Yeah, I'm talkin' B, nigga, I'm talkin' me
    Yeah, I'm talkin' bossy, I ain't talkin' Kelis
    Your money too short, you can't be talking to me
    Yeah, I'm talkin' LeBron, we ball in our family tree
    G.O.O.D. Music drug-dealing cousin
    Ain't nothin' fuckin' with we, me
    Turn that 62 to 125, 125 to a 250
    250 to a half a million, ain't nothin' nobody can do with me
    Now, who with me? ¡Vámonos! Call me Hov or Jefe
    Translation: I'm the shit, 'least that what my neck say
    'Least that what my check say, lost my homie for a decade
    Nigga down for like 12 years
    Ain't hug his son since the second grade
    Uh, he never told—who he gonna tell?
    We top of the totem pole
    It's the Dream Team meets the Supreme Team
    And all our eyes green, it only means one thing
    You ain't fuckin' with the clique

    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    Ain't nobody fresher than my muthafuckin' clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    As I look around, they don't do it like my clique
    Clique, clique, clique, clique
    And all these bad bitches, man
    They want the-, they want the-, they want

    Break records at Louis, ate breakfast at Gucci
    My girl a superstar all from a home movie
    Bow on our arrival, the un-American idols
    What niggas did in Paris, got 'em hangin' off the Eiffel
    Yeah, I'm talkin' business, we talkin' CIA
    I'm talkin' George Tenet, I seen him the other day
    He asked me about my Maybach, think he had the same
    Except mine tinted and his might have been rented
    You know, white people get money, don't spend it
    Or maybe they get money, buy a business
    I rather buy 80 gold chains and go ign'ant
    I know Spike Lee gon' kill me, but let me finish
    Blame it on the pigment, we livin' no limits
    Them gold Master P ceilings was just a figment
    Of our imagination, MTV cribs
    Now I'm lookin' at a crib right next to where TC lives
    That's Tom Cruise, whatever she accuse
    He wasn't really drunk, he just had a frew brews
    Pass the refreshments, a cool, cool beverage
    Everything I do need a news crew's presence
    Speedboat swerve, homie, watch out for the waves
    I'm way too black to burn from sunrays
    So I just meditate at the home in Pompeii
    About how I could build a new Rome in one day
    Every time I'm in Vegas they screamin' like he's Elvis
    But I just wanna design hotels and nail it
    Shit is real, got me feelin' Israelian
    Like Bar Refaeli, or Gisele—no, that's Brazilian

    Went through, deep depression when my mama passed
    Suicide, what kinda talk is that?
    But I been talkin' to God for so long
    That if you look at my life I guess he's talkin' back
    Fuckin' with my clique

    Ain't nobody fresher than my muthafuckin' clique
    As I look around, they don't do it like my clique
    And all these bad bitches, man
    They want the-, they want the-, they want-
    Go!

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