| You sober up punk
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| I do it high
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| I’m ridin’the wave in the …(?)
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| Baby you turnin’me on And when you turnin’me off
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| I think you better take some lessons yeah, from Diana Ross
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| I’m shippin’birds with no wings
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| All over seas
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| And other people cop em at the hottest degrees
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| I keep money for bail
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| Because I never liked jail
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| And I study A-plus student at Yale
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| They say Andre Nickatina ya emcee number seven
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| Smokin’weed up in heaven
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| Born on 3/11
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| Tigas and gods
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| Liquor and bomb
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| I look to my pad like the holy kerhan
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| I’m shippin’birds with no wings
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| All over seas
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| I put em where they never heard raps like these
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| I rhyme like calico cats
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| And two loaded gats
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| Now what mothafucka think he fuckin’with that?
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| I be the special shishcabob on the grill with all steaks
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| Call me a Mack truck with no brakes
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| Or better yet a chef that love to bake cakes
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| And get into anybody in any other state
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| Grand wizard (?) baby, look at what I done
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| We used to sex in ya basement now I’m number one
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| With no desire
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| I’m throwin’gasoline on the fire
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| I don’t like your record store if you’re not a buyer
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| Spin cycle
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| It’s sumthin’like a wash and dry
|
| And I be speakin’to my P. O with a serious lie
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| You know the Matador
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| The replican, the guillotine
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| The money, the dope
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| Homie, the triple beam
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| Melody’s soft but is heavy as weights
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| We got the snottiest freaks
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| With the sexiest face
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| You better poka-bang-bang
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| A chica-chica-chill
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| A tumble down the hill
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| Like Jack and Jill
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| We say spin around broke witch
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| Bust a ballerina
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| I pro blow when Mark with Marina
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| It’s time
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| Tiga I was bred to grind
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| Ђ?N your zodiac sign
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| N’up in the minds
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| Man, the killa whale of hell
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| Yell, strikin’down bail
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| Wet you with the water
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| Smack you with my tail
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| Shit,
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| I’m shippin’birds over seas
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| The number one Pisces
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| Shit,
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| It’s me |