| Hook: Awon
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| It’s time to wake up and celebrate those who celebrate us
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| Let’s elevate those who educate us
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| Let’s get up on these elevators and escalators
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| And chase more time and less paper
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| Verse 1: Awon
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| This is a lyrical exercise, microphones terrorize
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| Proof of The Other Guys, cuz rap niggas cover lies
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| There’s nothing I despise more then a fake punk faking the funk
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| Spewing false information to fill the cages with us
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| It’s a cycle that is never ending
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| I understand being bullshit are just pretending
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| Nobody’s winning but executives and judges, filling quotas on thuggin
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| The community stands by and does nothin
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| For all the bricks and connects with the Spanish names
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| And kingpins in the game, celebrated by fame
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| And all the rappers that are murderers the simple healers are never iller than
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| the truth
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| The fact is, you all prostitutes
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| For a pimp in a suit, who has never gave a hoot
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| About the melanated youth, filling all those jumpsuits
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| So body bags and nurses, mind poisons with verses
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| Are poems from force God
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| That’s why I go hard
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| Hook: Awon
|
| It’s time to wake up and celebrate those who celebrate us
|
| Let’s elevate those who educate us
|
| Let’s get up on these elevators and escalators
|
| And chase more time and less paper
|
| Verse 2: Awon
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| In my eyes we are all major
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| Even if I don’t gravitate toward your flavor
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| I’d rather see all you win in your demise, I’m not designed to be a hater
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| I was told that it gets greater later
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| I sing with an essence, like a morsel of joy
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| Like how he’d get so much flavor in the La Croix
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| I can’t imagine someone cradling the head of either one of my boys
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| Because they couldn’t block out the noise
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| A simple device destroy so much young potential
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| I can’t ever really see it as coincidental
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| When you hearing that pain on instrumentals with suicide notes
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| Cries for help but never answer then they die but don’t
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| That’s all she wrote, and the scope of the investigation limited
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| To so and so who leave with the witnesses on the premises
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| Potential limitless, I couldn’t get any clearer
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| It’s not a critique, but a look in the mirror
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| Cuz I ain’t even credible
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| I wrote this in the melancholy funk off a Hennessy and edibles
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| Hook: Awon
|
| It’s time to wake up and celebrate those who celebrate us
|
| Let’s elevate those who educate us
|
| Let’s get up on these elevators and escalators
|
| And chase more time and less paper |