| Hello, I’m not home right now, I’m probably busy
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| So at the sound of the beep, leave your message
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| And I’ll return your call, as soon as I can
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| Peace, okay?
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| Whattup duke? |
| It’s your man again
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| No fakeness, cornball, or shenanigans
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| Real talk, comin from the thoroughest
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| Broke bread with Brooklyn nappy borough kids
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| Time after time you tried to stop my rhyme
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| But I’m all chest and heart and you got no spine
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| I was born to lead, you was born to bleed
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| Youse a slowpoke nigga so I move with speed
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| Update — you higher and you can’t be found
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| I heard you and your man was suckin dicks out of town
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| You throw dirt we shovel that shit back
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| And when we catch your lil' ass we gon' snap your back
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| One thing, I just can’t understand
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| You got a big mouth for a little-ass man
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| Try to leave me hangin, without the rope
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| I got enough rope to leave your punk-ass choked
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| You know me, I don’t speak just to scare you
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| You know my resume and the things that I do
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| Like, punch cats, in they solar plex'
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| Leave nasty holes, in they face and they chest
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| When you get the message, give me a call
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| And we’ll meet up and I’ll kick you, dead in the balls
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| Call me back BITCH, call me back~!
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| Yeah… |