| Now let me take you for a ride in my train of thought
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| One time for your mind, 'cause my brain is lost
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| I’m insane when I rhyme, lines razor-sharp
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| So stay away from the mic, or I’ll fillet you, dawg
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| Nowadays, rappers say the same things in songs
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| «Gold chains, weed ablaze, chase babes, and cars»
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| Do your thing, but I can’t relate to y’all
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| 'Cause I only chase broads with serrated saws
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| And only thing I’ll set ablaze is your grandma
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| And use a chain to restrain the dame to the damn wall
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| And I drive a white van with a mask on
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| In that case, I do relate to your stupid-ass song
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| I’m not one to take a nap on; |
| keep your lamp on
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| Or I’ll sneak in through your backyard into your pad, dawg
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| Kill your mom, sister, dad, all y’all and your damn dog
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| Better build a rampart if you don’t listen to my rap songs
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| Let’s be honest, my bars are the bomb, man
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| Got feds watching the shit that I spit
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| Thinking my mind is connected to ISIS
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| But I’ll stand behind my bars like I’m already a convict
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| So when you hear my voice
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| Turn it up, I deliver like a pizza boy
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| I’m authentic, I’m the motherfucking real McCoy
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| Put my shit on repeat, and keep repeating like Marina Joyce
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| Just take notice that I’m making motions
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| Like a train, but with way more loco motives
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| Rose up from a broken home with
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| No one but my chode and lotion
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| I’ll take the mic you’re holding
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| From right under your nose, man
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| And set alight the whole damn crowd below me
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| Cause my flows explosive
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| You know the kid who used to write poems
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| At school, in class, who couldn’t focus
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| And a heart so cold, it grew frozen
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| Had a gift that no one had noticed
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| Cause nobody seemed to know him
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| And every word he said was unspoken
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| They were written in a notepad
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| But now you hear it through your headphone jack
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| And now, people wanna say they know me
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| Oh, now foes wanna claim we’re homies
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| Now you stuck-up bitches wanna bone me
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| «Bros» turned phony, hoes just horny
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| It’s funny, things changed when I started rhyming
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| Chicks doing what I say, but my name ain’t even Simon
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| Step into the game, make a motherfucker time out
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| If you tryna play with me, better put the time in
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| What is there to say, I like runnin my mouth
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| I’ma put a couple miles in
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| Man, if I were you, I’d lock my child up, confined in solitude
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| 'Cause I’ll light the kid on fire and invite you to the barbecue
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| You better listen now, motherfuckers, or I promise you
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| You’re gonna come to find he’s on the news or on a noose
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| If he jamming to my music, I’ll give him bad habits
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| I’m a bad influence
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| Simple bitch-slapping, open fire on a school shit
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| When it comes to rapping, possibilities are numerous
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| I raise the motherfucking bar along with hell, so, don’t step to me, rook
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| I’m leaving rappers impaled with my deadly hooks
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| Desiigner, Uzi, Meek Mill be especially shook!
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| 'Cause XXL just a recipe book |