| I been in a daze, gettin' blazed everyday
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| Gettin' paid with my man, smokin Js to the face
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| In the land of the snow, land of the vacant
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| Scandinavian piano rolls on my playlist
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| Damn, like I open up the ears of the ancients
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| And play that Sylvester during improvisation
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| The fam is the standin', ventilating Nu Age
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| The clan gives no answers, what can I say vanish like
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| Dracula and the mirror and the candlelight
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| Henny boys so the antics kinda shoddy vibin'
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| Now I’m in the lair with the manic fan Bobby Bobby Raps…
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| … and produces — where you at?
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| I get no coverage like a bum in the winter
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| Ain’t ate shit all day I guess this blunt is for dinner
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| I run with them sinners, the hunger in my stomach it lingers
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| Just hit a couple of stingers blunt look like gorilla fingers
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| I tell my baby bro let’s go — tear the block up
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| I’ll stop rappin' when they lock them fuckin' cops up
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| On a quest for fulfilment, my expectations are low
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| Another year in the life, I guess it’s taking it’s toll huh
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| And Chester like my long lost brother
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| 300 like Keith Cozart mixed with Gerard Butler
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| Scars on my face remindin' me of all my mistakes
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| That’s why I bought me these chains
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| So I never forgot where I came
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| You uh wah who do fuck
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| Bitch I am a troubadour
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| Hit your ass like booyaka
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| These boys slow, time to go, vamanos
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| Your bars like Rey Mysterio, they on the ropes
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| I don’t give a fuck what your man said
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| I got more bars than a light skinned Xan head
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| Your world domination plan dead
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| And these other boys spoon fed
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| St Paul with his tomb… |