| I’m gon' get it while it’s hot cause I don’t like it cold
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| I’m a valley boy rapping so I change the mode
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| Really not clueless, just a cool negro
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| Truth be told told, I’m a rap nigga fa' sho
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| Sick and tired of hearing 'bout all this global warmin'
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| The reason why it’s hot because I came and stormed in
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| Come get it or not is what I tried to inform them
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| Can’t walk in these shoes cause my vans are smolderin'
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| Fifteen minutes, is it fresh or off?
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| All the fame you get if the pressure’s off
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| Hot sixteen’s, teen dreams and schemes
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| Buku blog fiends mucho blowin' steam
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| Yes, man, I’m O.G. |
| in the scene (word)
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| A long term success, I’m-a be in the green
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| It ain’t buzz
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| See what I means? |
| I get love
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| Two different things, but only one is enough
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| I’m on another Fahrenheit, tearing mics
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| Two-hundred degrees
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| Burn MC’s like kerosene
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| Upedialyte
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| Fashawn to remain king, compared to these parasites
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| They scared of heights
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| Won’t even put up a fight
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| Just guard your grill, my regime hard to kill
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| Only connect with architects, now let’s build
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| I rhyme and hit 'em with a little
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| 'Shawn in the middle
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| It’s venemous, every bar that I scribble, nigga
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| Hot right now
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| Equation, equator
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| Sensation, that of nature
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| Quotation, it burns my ears in pleasure, elation
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| It’s good and elevation
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| Electric stimulation
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| Education
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| Emancipation proclamation for the imagination
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| Stationary or cruising
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| A visionary and soothing
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| Passing by on a comet’s tail, got to keep it moving
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| So dramatic, cinematic
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| Hot like grease to the face
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| Super-soaker full of gasoline, would you like a taste?
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| AmpLive, gimme amplified over 808's and the crash and ride
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| A landslide win when I go in
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| Did he just go double time?
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| Still I rhyme with a goal in mind
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| To build with kids who do major crime
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| At school I’m up on a grand design
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| Keep us dumb, keep us blind
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| Keeps us locked, keep us broke
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| Keep us hooked on the drink and smoke
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| Since the days I mentioned we been up on the biggest joke
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| It’s hard enough to, and L.A. streets is butane so
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| Hold it up and toast it up and dance it off to the words I wrote
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| I shine like solo, but I’m cold like polo
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| With a chip up on on my shoulder
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| Then you charge, knock it over
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| You in triple stage darkness, so call me abyss
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| Thus, triple X-rating, murdering triple 6
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| I’m G.O.D. |
| movement, the drum and the kick
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| And the call me MC, but I’m more like a myth
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| Like a coal train, breh, pulling deep up in this bitch
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| If you cut me, I’m-a bleed all the rhymes that I rip
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| Picture of the sun, see I’m black like a
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| Caliente, Chris Young’s the missile
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| I blast into the whole game
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| I’m better than these rookies
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| I’m a veteran, I’m ahead of them
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| Wake up on Excedrin
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| Your caffeine couldn’t see the young teen
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| That used to be nineteen, now out of the year
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| See what I mean?
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| See, the peers inside my vision never listen when they lock down
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| Like water when it boils, you suckas are hot right now
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| Hot right now
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| Get it while it’s hot |