| Sad on your muthafuckin b-day? |
| Bitch, what the fuck?! |
| Don’t you realize you
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| poppin'? |
| Every time you walk in the room you break necks. |
| Necks?!
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| But you tellin' me you sad on your muthafuckin' b-day
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| Yeah
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| Yeah
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| Yeah
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| I sit here and tell you my problems
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| That’s how this work, right?
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| I’m s’posed to be open and honest
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| But I got time, right?
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| My niggas having sessions and I’m doin' sessions
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| Can’t man up if masculinity your only weapon
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| Man, I’ve thought about suicide a hundred times
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| But, I’d hate to disappoint and see my momma cry
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| Birthdays these days be the worst days
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| 'Cause I know I’m getting older and not happier
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| Me and my father love each other but we barely show it
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| He hates that I left home and the lawn is now his to mow it
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| He look at my generation and think that fashion’s over
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| I kill my sister if she ever model Fashion Nova (true)
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| I’m always on a flight, or I’m in a hurry
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| I miss when losing my virginity was my only worry
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| Back when putting on a condom had me really scary
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| And milkshakes were the only time we’d eat a cherry
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| I think learning how to eat pussy from someone who eat pussy
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| Is better than learning from someone who doesn’t
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| And that’s word to my ex
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| And that’s word to my tongue
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| And that’s word to the woman who had my heart beatin' drums
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| Yeah
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| Love is what I cherished and Miss Parrish
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| Flew all the way to Paris and we made out on my terrace
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| I kept it on the low low, cause I was in love
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| And the shade I had in my room was already enough
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| I’m going on some dates and I’m making some plans
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| But it’s hard to find some love if the girl is a fan
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| And after we fuck, she want a picture with me
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| She got me feeling like Paper Boi, but I cry when she leaves
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| These intros ain’t meant to be bangers
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| They meant for you and me so we’ll never end up as strangers
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| Will Ferrell’s ass can’t even handle this weather
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| Tune in your speakers and please be my Dr. Whoever
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| I said, I said
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| These intros ain’t meant to be bangers
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| They meant for you and me so we’ll never end up as strangers
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| Will Ferrell’s ass can’t even handle this weather
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| Tune in your speakers and please be my Dr. Whoever
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| Yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh, woo
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| Yes sir, yeah, look
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| Boy, you looking big mad
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| When you see a young brotha up in first class
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| And you damn right my ego like Lavar ball
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| And they hate to see a black man who can’t get blackballed
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| I said my paper long
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| My paper long
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| You damn right, bitch
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| My paper long
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| It’s that yellow, mellow, fellow
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| Yeah, that Yellowstone
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| Play the cello for the fellows, fake as silicone
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| I went from plaque in my teeth
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| To having plaques on the wall
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| Gold album, with platinum records who woulda thought
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| Young nigga, like Jigga
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| Tryna make me a boss
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| I’ll take my momma to Louis
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| And take your girl to the Ross nigga
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| Back in the muthafuckin' building
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| Your boo thing want my children
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| My net worth gon' be a billion
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| Shorty gimme head like ceiling
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| Dick disappear chameleon
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| And like I’m muthafuckin rollin
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| My whip bought, it’s not stolen
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| These intros ain’t meant to be bangers
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| They meant for you and me so we’ll never end up as strangers
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| Will Ferrell’s ass can’t even handle this weather
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| Tune in your speakers and please be my Dr. Whoever
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| Hey doc, do I tell em how I actually feel?
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| Or do I see a therapist and numb the pain with the pills
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| They swear niggas play tough won’t even smile in mirrors
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| And we learn to fuck hoes off trial and error
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| Friday nights, where them broke niggas ball out
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| And Amine be the name that your girlfriend gon call out
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| To all my niggas with some melanin
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| Let your feelings settle in
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| If you feelin' worthless you should probably go and tell a friend
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| But, I should take that advice
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| This year has been crazy
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| What the fuck is my life
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| My best friend got married
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| You can bet that I cried
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| I met Spike and Brad Pitt, no malls I’m Saks Fifth, nigga
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| Get your shit together and turn the fuck up! |