| Ay J, you know blud
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| Like Adz would say, «ya'know I’m sayin?»
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| Daily Duppy
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| Fanatics
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| Yo
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| How long I been rappin'? |
| Chip been snappin'
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| Diss me, I diss myself better, B-Rabbit
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| Gaucho, I get my steak with some veg' but I never had my beef and came out
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| cabbaged
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| Chip don’t have it, oh, he’s savage
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| Pot belly on me, yeah the champs' do damage
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| Best friend moved to LA, said he saw the bigger picture and he ain’t on the mic,
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| he trappin'
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| I ain’t oblivious to scales in the room
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| Boy it’s piff when I spit off the scale when I boom
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| Big Chip got the wave, you got the plague, I pray please God keep us out the
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| same rooms
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| Cah I’m about the good vibes, good life, tryna have a good time
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| Good guy but tell you what the hood’s like
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| You must’ve thought I’m a do it by the book guy
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| I’ma get the money by rook or crook like
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| I was in the mud, had to climb up for fresh air
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| Why you think it’s mic' corn when they step here
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| Chip’s gonna run out of bars, not even next year
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| Why is it they wanna see you fall when you get there?
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| Get where? |
| Get here, money or they get aired
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| Text Ash like, «yo fam has the cheque cleared?»
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| Boy I ain’t got a leng but I got a pen
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| I make a hundred in a year and only drop ten
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| Niggas can’t gun me
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| Raskit like Dizzee, nobody spun me
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| Step correct when I push, gotta love it, haters wan' touch him
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| This chain Cuban, security Russian
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| I ain’t taking no chances
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| Stand still, see the diamonds just dancin'
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| Give gyally champagne, more glasses
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| Couple dry mout' gyal just glancin', what drink? |
| Not askin'
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| It’s cool babe, hold this
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| Don’t drink if your body can’t hold it
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| LP, Dom P, I’m on my grown shit
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| You a wifey or thot babe, own it, it’s cool, I condone it
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| My mind been zoning, the weed shop that I go stays open
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| I got a few addictions but I’m coping
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| Like, sometimes I wanna quit smoking
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| Nah, fuck that, I’m rolling, I’m fucking bipolar
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| I don’t need diagnosing, I own up
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| I love young niggas chatting like olders
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| Cah boy I was twenty one feelin' grown up
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| Now I see the generation gap and how it’s fuckin' up the culture
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| Murder me a new rapper, charge it to the culture
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| Ain’t no pigeon 'bout to play with this vulture
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| I don’t get comfy, pussy I’m kosher, nobody told ya? |
| Uh
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| Been reppin', big spliff, back of the dance, two steppin'
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| Olders and youngers who call man a legend
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| Respect the R9's and CR7's
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| Cah Chip had tek then and got tek now
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| We don’t tek' chat, he’ll make a boy tek', bow
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| Everyobody claiming thrones, want the top chair
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| Stop it, the scene was poppin' before you got here
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| I just got haters, I ain’t got rivals
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| I don’t like Christmas, me, I do Guy Fawkes
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| Rap game, washing machine, it’s all cycles
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| Niggas should be spittin', they be tryna go viral
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| Newbies going at idols, clinical cycle
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| Been a while, yeah, I seen what time do
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| Married to the game, no homo
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| You wanna do ring? |
| Nigga you’ll see what I do
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| I ain’t Tyson, I don’t bite man, prep up
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| But I’m Tyson, I get knocked down, get up
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| Man know the motto, been cash, man pen up
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| Rap game jarring but I ain’t quite fed up
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| I ain’t even talkin' 'bout jarring youts
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| When I say fed up, I mean more food
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| I get the pen, start barking tunes
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| Stuck in your head like the Barking tune
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| We don’t spark, we bark these zoots
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| They’re no bite, we’ll bark these yutes
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| Who’s the young G that came through with the OG’s that can still out bar these
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| yutes
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| Sitting here with this Gelato three five
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| I quit rappin' before I’m three five
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| Your lyrical levels are knee high
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| Can’t kick up a beat like… like… rampin' |