| I sip a hot tea, watchin' Archie flip on Meathead
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| And left the page Rip Torn writin' what the beat said
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| On the mic he’s heat-red, ghetto and street-bred
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| All crooked D.T.s and feds can eat
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| Lead, wheat, and gluten free, he is who he is, is who he be
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| Mind your biz for me
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| It could even help you in the long run
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| What good’s a song if the jawn’s no fun, son?
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| Shogun, invisible armor level 5
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| Couldn’t penetrate the bomber with your llama, stay alive
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| Playin' jive, beamin' on the telemetry
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| Old enough to be your uncle, prime time MC
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| Although prefer the term «rhymer», third-timer
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| Slurred word primer, dime a mama
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| And make sure it stay tight, it’s only right
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| Own the daylight and the night life, they bite trife
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| From thug to bug to happy-go-lucky shit
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| Ask him, do he really give a fuck-shit? |
| Tuck it
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| No ice bucket list, suck it
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| Struck a nugget, duck, kid
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| When I die, fuck it, I guess I prefer me goin' to Hell
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| Because Earth is truly the same, so the difference I’ll never tell
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| He send it like it’s the mail, Captain Bishy set his sail
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| Excel like Microsoft on all of these other fails
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| His trail never derail, his mental’s the Holy Grail
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| As the stress gets released from the simplest of inhales
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| It’s sealed from all the chantin', like he holdin' up a strike
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| The mic’s his only light, alikes, my only vice
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| Advice is like a satellite, I see them try and dish
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| Feel I’m dyin' in the skies, I’ve been grantin' this kid’s wish, it’s
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| Kinda ridiculous like thoughts of Saint Nicholas
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| Breakin' in, leavin' gifts for all the world’s underprivileged kids
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| Quit with the ignorance, the emperor’s legitimate
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| And learn to never give a shit
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| They never gettin' it, I’m makin' it clear
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| All the haze took focus as these jokers appear
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| I been acceleratin', I already know where to steer
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| He save face, no brakes, I’m just peepin' the rear
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| And I been livin' out of love, they livin' in they fear
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| I change ways, I’m cruisin', but never changin' the gears
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| They say that he back; |
| actually, I been at it for years
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| Dreams the side-view mirror, they closer than they appear
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| Just beware of the emperor, I play the game’s vendor
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| He raps Wes Anderson, directin' these beginners
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| Too illustrious, I leave the sucker fits to the pretenders
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| Made tenders as I played Simba, nigga, that’s dinner
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| I remember when my shine was a little bit dimmer
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| Now it’s bright, and the light, I leave 'em blind from the shimmer
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| They tryna play the blinds, I leave 'em fallin' like, «timber»
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| Designed to rise from this abyss, this kid’s art differs
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| Like shivers, he’s the coldest vibe alive, and it’s evident
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| I put the pride to the side, it’s irrelevant
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| A angel like mine know mine heaven sent
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| And this the best it gets, bitch |