| My style cayenne pepper so I spit like Dylan
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| Speak the criminal slang
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| Lyrical homicide
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| Lyrically I’m worshipped, don’t front the word sick
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| Sorry if I write like niggas with attitude
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| I’m the most anticipated
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| I’m what the west is missing
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| Sup y’all? |
| I’m glad we could meet
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| I know it took a while for me to introduce my self properly
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| But this is me, I don’t howl at the moon
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| I’m obviously a beast, I got fangs for teeth
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| Eatin' rappers like cabbage in your mamma’s coleslaw
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| Soulbama, who you think your baby momma vote for?
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| I feel I’m the best that’s done it so far
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| And that goes both ways, so far and so far
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| Half the kind of rhymes I write
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| Kind of remind me of like, lines in the Bible, I might
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| Be a disciple, but I ain’t tryin' to spread no gospel
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| I wish y’all a great time under the sun
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| Life is short, live it like it ain’t cause it might not be
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| 21 years taught me that, nobody
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| Can take what I earn myself, 'til I earn myself
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| I was born to shine, like a firefly am I
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| And I’m in the best position to wreck rappers like tangles
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| From four angles, I see your plot unravel
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| I’m a lost angel, somebody got me for my halo
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| Around the time I wheelie’d my bike and watched cable
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| Exposed to the street and learned to roll to the beat
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| Had the gift since birth, but the curse was pre-natal
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| Ask my momma, she’ll cosign I brought the drama
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| Kickin' her tummy like I punted for the Cowboys
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| Mat McBriar, the silent killer with loud noise
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| Tit for tat, I’m tic-tacin' Altoids
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| Fresh-dressed for the occasion to trample y’all cats
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| But you ignorant niggas ain’t understandin' all that
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| Ask wizzle, I’m like a train in the clouds, I’m fly on the track
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| I’ll take you there, but I ain’t guidin' you back
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| The phase three metaphor reservoir dog off the leash
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| And y’all sleep, call the pound, I’m a clown and my |