| I’m about to get on some Norman Bates shit, and go psycho
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| Shit, gather around your speakers
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| Let me start fronting on 'em early
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| I’ma front on 'em early, that’s what I do
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| You know my persona, let me kinda remind ya
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| The Gucci, Gabbana, the New-E, the Low, Evisus, designers
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| How I post up, parley amongst piranhas
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| I’m the urban version of that turban-wearing Osama
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| Last of a genre, it’s nothing to mash y’all minors
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| Y’all trash, I’ll leave half of y’all niggas in trauma, ha ha
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| So I laugh, cause I’d rather clam in vagina
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| Splash a few grands on some high sand in the sauna
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| Usually ponder when I puff my little ganjas
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| Somber, feeling like Don Cheadle in Hotel Rwanda
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| You know karma, increase when you cease your drama
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| It’s deep, but you sleep when you feel there’s peace upon you
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| Keep that armor, I formerly greet as a charmer
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| But beneath is more than mystique, I’m a monster
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| Came to conquer, no games I came to regain my honor
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| No lames, it’s insane what the brain can conjure
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| Why launder, when I can outsell the bomber
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| Miskel, tell Mel, he’ll be out of jail by Kwanza
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| From Tompkins to Gowanus, to the hills in Brownsville, I sponsors
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| Nothing to cock back the Black P-80 Launcher
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| Any hate can haunt you, I’m straight from the L.I. |
| gates of Yonkers
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| Down to the Southern states to Great Lakes in Tonker
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| Young, majestic, the beams from the Sun reflect it
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| Numb before Bush Senior’s son was elected
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| Eclectic, world respected, like Brother Ube from Dure
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| But hey, what you expected, perfected, connected
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| So exit, or have it all in here
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| We can war, when where, nigga I’m so sincere |