| Now baby you gon’get a crook in your neck looking at me sideways
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| I play high stakes made crook in a crime wave
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| Must be something on my face
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| yelling that they ought no tell em what they spellin on MySpace dot com
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| Bold type face rhetoric
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| You gon’clickety click and get your head split
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| What the hell you look like on a message board
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| Discussing whether or not the brother is hard core
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| I ain’t got to prove to any of you
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| that anything I ever said was is the truth but I’m ready to do it
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| And do it leisurely, Ant give 10 beats a week
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| so fuck it I’ll put the record how it needs to be
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| I understand I ain’t perfect alright
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| I been a thugged out nerd all my life
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| Thank God I ain’t got to serve dirt or snatch purses at night
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| I feed people with the verses I write
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| And I fill them with my personal strife
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| Had some of y’all concerned for my life
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| for what I’ve had the nerve to recite
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| I cut my grass grow, bring the serpants to light
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| Now baby you ain’t never heard me I’m tight
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| And I’m surgical like, with this bitch Jake
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| you know that shit fuck around and get a closed casket and I’m old fashioned
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| Trying to figure out how we got from Whipper Whip to this silly bullshit
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| It’s just so tragic
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| But it ain’t impossible to solve
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| I ain’t learned jack shit from Dorian at all
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| Let me hear you abusing the culture I adore
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| I’ll come across the hall and get involved like this here
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| I’m just here to play my part, and inbetween scenes got to stay on guard
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| I ain’t way out y’all, you just don’t get me dog
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| You gon fuck around and miss me dog, it ain’t my fault
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| And they love the way I talk
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| Eyes get real wide when I say my thoughts
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| I ain’t way out y’all, you just don’t get me dog
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| You gon fuck around and miss me dog, it ain’t my fault
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| Tabernacle my hand, expand to the size of a big black granite statue
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| Devide it by the lightning speed that they can move
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| It ain’t an autograph, do that math I’ma smack you
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| I like to pull up my pants and lean back too
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| Organic vegetables, mix em with fast food
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| Im Howard Stern meets Howard Zinn
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| How could you not find a pal in him and get attracted too
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| I take it back for you when possible
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| If your hear this then I’m confiding in you
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| Pop call me, «Ali what’s bothering you
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| Don’t you want to tell your friends you and your father are cool»
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| «NO."You got more X’s than the Honorable Elijah Muhammed do but that ain’t my problem with you
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| Truth is your just an impossible dude
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| you get hostile with fools when their honest with you
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| I could make me a snide little comment or two
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| but I don’t see what that nascence would prove
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| I don’t give fake props to the dude or walk around in his shoes
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| I just do what the Qu’ran says to do and respect him
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| Now I ain’t even here to get clandestine
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| but best believe I’ma get what’s destined
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| Be it an Escalade or a fixed up F10
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| It’s better than this bus, best friend believe that
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| I ain’t got a free minute to lean back
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| Spiderman 2 coming out and Faheem need that
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| Plus I wanna teach him how to read on a Leap Pad
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| Schining bike, smiling like «look at me dad!»
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| That’s the shit that I’m in to I defend to the death
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| That I’m every bit as gangster as them fools
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| If I wasn’t G I wouldn’t flow like this
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| If you were really a G you wouldn’t know I exist, you bitch
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| (I don’t understand what they’re sayin'
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| but little did they know they could get a smack for that, man)
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| So I’d advise you to shut the fuck up Silly muhfucka
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| I said clap your hand to the beat y’all
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| 'Cause the beat make you clap your hands
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| I said clap your hand to the beat y’all
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| 'Cause the beat make you clap your hands |