| Dag, I wish I was like Jordan
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| So I could just fly through the air no one could ever stop me Or, or like Mike Mike Tyson
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| So I could just knock people’s heads off
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| Naaw, more like Prince
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| So I could pull all the honeys
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| Well a brother like Chi Ali is pullin all the honeys anyway
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| But still, it would be nice
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| First Verse
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| What’s goin on kid?
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| At times I dress to be in
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| I see you grinnin I’m beginnin to think that we’re friends
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| And if we are friends, then we are far from fools
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| So I will then kiss and
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| let you into my sphere cool
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| Now listen I’m known, as a Black Sheep
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| And if you try to pull the cover
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| and attempt to sleep
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| You won’t get rest naaaah
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| You can not sleep on this
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| For I make noise… see
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| But anyway, I It’s where I live and though
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| I live on nonetheless
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| Someime
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| I’ve got my body and my intellect
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| I’m buddha blessed
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| Now my chalantness
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| Or rather lack of this
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| You call the spade a spade
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| well I will call the spade a kiss
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| Butt in the meantime
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| You try to And if the source
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| I get a verbal bat
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| Until I get through
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| that we are rich with wealth
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| Can you understand that you should be yourself?
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| Chorus >repeats twice
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| 'Bah bah Black Sheep’repeated three
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| Have U.N.E. |
| Pull / times
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| Or are you full of sheep
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| Tryin to pull the wool
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| Second Verse
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| What’s goin on black?
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| You want a hand to smack
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| Well I can never be all that
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| So I will give you daps
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| I do the 'Hey yo'
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| Your girl is on the strobe?
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| Oh no that’s kind of trip
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| But gee I gotta go You see it’s not the style of me So I’m not mending
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| And I won’t pull you leg
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| Nor start pretending
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| to be a fair weather
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| with a plea to come
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| Cause you never let me hold your
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| You see it’s like this I’ll start explaining
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| Dres is down with self maintaining
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| Don’t say I can’t, I know that I can
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| Black Sheep rule, me and my man
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| Or my man and I, Mista Lawnge and Dres
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| Baby sounds are in the sphere
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| better do as Chris says
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| As for me, to say just how
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| You didn’t know me then
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| so you could never know me now
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| Third verse
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| What’s goin on hon?
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| You say you’re out for fun
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| I got a pocket full of posies
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| You say I got a fun
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| Then take a step back
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| Away from Flipper
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| I’d rather shoot you with the joint
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| inside my zipper
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| But not to be fresh
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| For then I lose the groove
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| I’d rather see you smile
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| And move your booty smooth
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| Then I get to know ya Got things to show ya Is there the chance
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| of me gettin over
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| And over and over and over and over again
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| Now tell me Are you gonna let me in For it’s gettin hot
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| what I have have not
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| Give me a second though
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| I have a mansion and a yacht
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| A caddy for my daddy
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| somethin new for mom too
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| A coat for Mista Lawnge
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| and some hook-ers for the crew
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| Honey don’t get mad
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| You know my love is greater
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| But, I’ll dig you later
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| 'I can dig it'>repeated six times
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| with gradually decreasing emphasis |