| Speak to the people over the horn
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| Like Fela Kuti in my favorite kufi
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| I took a vow to spray the uzi til the day they do me
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| Do the right thing ain’t a movie to me
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| Appear horny if you ain’t raisin the stakes, then what you sayin' to me
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| I shoot the hard eight spit street nine
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| Hypocrites trying to Bogard whats mine to bolster your shine
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| Y’all got lines in your costumes and cast rooms
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| This is incense in the back room kickin' your next tattoo
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| The big man ship has officially landed
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| Steady layin' hands on this planet
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| A full-blown fan and always one of the baddest
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| That’s just part and parcel of my starving artist status
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| The hunger for greatness is utterly ageless
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| Bubble up on your playlist dumping blood on the pavement
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| You’re playing with some bonafide born troubadours
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| Bursting through the studio doors hunting for superstars
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| Confiscating all pros who smack around and fanny pack for rapping over vocals
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| We keep surviving, weaving and bobbin'
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| Increasing involvement and feasting and fawning
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| While neat people party, the inmates are free in the asylum
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| How not to be a product of this weak ass environment
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| Y’all gotta feel me though the mic hand is regal
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| The light beams will reach you, they can heal a broken people
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| Regardless of the freeze we on the good shit still
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| All eyes shukka Sean P and Bushwick Bill
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| We are the good man
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| Yeah, son
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| Trust me
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| Am I a Blood, clot him?
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| And he just listens to what may I say
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| Check it!
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| Time favors the spit kickers and rhymesayers
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| Ev and Ali is my family, they stay in my prayers
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| Movin' on up like Dave Chappelle and John Mayer
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| Singapore eatin' a steam cake that’s nine layers
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| Promoters owe so all my notes be promissary
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| Tom and Jerry rappers don’t want none like monasteries
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| I’m honorary every verse is a doctorate
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| Collecting PhDs over degrees that doctors get
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| Where we live ain’t just a trap they had to seal us off
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| The money, power, and respect is what they kill you for
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| I’m still involved even if the tried to kill us all
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| You a flash in the pan, you not hot, that’s just a menopause
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| Passport pimpin' on the plane soon as i get a call
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| It’s like, ever since I was born a nigga been absorbed
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| Rios band for that Dutch river fall
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| Till writing iron made us tag graffiti on Brazilian walls
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| My elevation is high, you’re just peaking
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| A mountain of rhymes, you need a Sherpa just to reach them
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| Or read him, cause when you see him, you start bleedin' from your eyes
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| Though I’m seeing from third, I never needed your reply
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| Leave you wheezin' on the curb, just for speaking to me wrong
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| We ain’t friends just cause you rap, we don’t have to get along
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| That’s gonna have to be okay, go ahead and make a diss record
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| Rap your little heart out, feel better
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| That’s a little rhyme, get that rhyme?
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| I put that rhyme in, because quite often dropouts come in to catch the show
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| Them dumb ass dropouts like those rhymes |