| I just got my G.E.D
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| So there ain’t shit you can say to me
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| Yeah, Kato
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| Jarren, Benton
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| 4, Ize
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| Waddup?
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| You ever try to suck your own dick?
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| That shit never works do it?
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| I just got my G.E.D. |
| nigga!
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| Finna style on these niggas
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| Every day I wake up (yawn)
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| Tryna get this cake up
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| Smack a bitch so hard, I knock off all her make-up
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| Stomach rumbling, fucking rappers 'bout to get ate up
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| Y’all a bunch of queers, they cheering for team Jacob
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| Josephine Baker, blowing green acres
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| Bully niggas for lunch money, I need paper
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| Fuck with me, is bump 50 with clean razors
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| And I stand the fuck out like new shorts and pink gators
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| Torpedo on my arm
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| Bitch I’m not the norm'
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| And I’m posted at the bar all day like I’m Norm
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| Clueless like a Blood in a blue uniform
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| And the shit I’m smoking got me seeing blue unicorns (woo)
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| Stunting on these niggas like I just hit the lottery
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| Dick in your bitch ass, like a colonoscopy
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| Got my GED, but I majored in philosophy
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| Got a minor in psychology, who’s fucking hot as me?
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| Niggas think it’s a game, cause Jarren’s a monopoly
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| Sawed off shotgun, to break you off properly
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| Stand between me and my paper, like apostrophe
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| Give niggas lobotomies, they shittin' out colostomies
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| Bitches used to diss me, they ain’t wanna talk to me
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| Jock’s shoved me in the lockers cause I act awkwardly
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| Now I’m getting pussy like I study gynecology
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| The dopest nigga from the bottom, yeah bitch, I got him here
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| Uh-huh, I said yeah bitch I gotta be
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| Blessed like the Dalai Lama
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| Your mama honour me
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| Probably, it’s certified, guaranteed
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| Kato, Jarren B, 4ize apparently
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| The illest motherfuckers like 3, the hard ways
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| So I freestyle, getting off at freedom parkway
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| Okay? |
| Is y’all pissed off yet?
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| Cut the check, my money long as Chris Bosh neck
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| With paid salary in Eric 9's art gallery
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| I’m a beast, with the vampire immortality
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| In the pale moonlight, dancing
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| I’m dancing, romancing fine bitches like Scarlett Johansson
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| Freaky sluts and tramps with these hoes
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| I’ll show 'em what they pussy made for
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| Black, white, Indian, Italian, Asians and Puerto Ricans
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| Fucking every colour in the rainbow
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| My fire, flame, oh
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| I’m smoking on the best for a living
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| And sex is a given if I’m next to a pigeon
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| Chicken head, hood rat, googoo with a monkey
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| The ambassador, I do it for my country
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| Do it for the haters, I do it for hip-hop
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| Ain’t nothin peewee up under my big top
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| I’m hard headed like a boner
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| Stupid like Homer (d'oh!)
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| With a general education diploma
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| Castlevanian mansion
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| Ring, Brady and Manson
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| Ballerina in the attic and the lady’s dancing
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| 80 phantoms, maybe I’m inhaling branson
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| And maybe I’m Bronson
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| Super sperm, break the condom
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| A hundred kids walk around with my physical structure
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| My older son drank 'till he made his liver rupture
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| My second oldest like Moses
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| 'Cept he took two of every creature, put 'em in his freezer and he froze 'em
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| My brain half dead, pledge allegiance to the chosen
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| These hookers want my kids, caught 'em leaving with the trojan
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| Try and empty it with legs open
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| I clotheslined her in the Days Inn parking lot and now she choking
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| I’m laughing at the moon while I’m rapping to this tune
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| I will make an ass out of you if you ever assume
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| Configure me cause I’m using simplicity
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| I will fucking stab you next month, and turn the future to history
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| People think I’m a prophet cause I’m dressing like Socrates
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| Easy access, has always been my philosophy
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| I don’t even flow, my words sit on top of the beat
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| Kathy Bates style, use a clock to prop up your feet
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| Down with the sledge hammer, call me 5−0
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| Dead rappers, I don’t turn heads, I give neck fractures
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| And split heads after
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| Call me Jack the Rapper
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| You motherfuckers pitch crack, I attack the battle
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| I just got my G.E.D
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| So there ain’t shit you can say to me |