| Sup? |
| Goddamn it’s hot in here
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| Now, it’s my garden right here
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| You’re all accordingly invited to a little party in my honour
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| So give yourself a little round of applause just for being here
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| Golf clap or some shit
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| Just make sure you don’t step on my herb garden on the way in
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| That’s really important, I don’t want you to fuck that shit up
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| Just go to the back
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| I suggest you just travel a little ways up further there
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| You know, past the hibiscus bushes and shit
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| All the way to the patio, get yourself a boat drink and just relax
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| Pardon me while I dance in the garden around the mansion
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| It’s harder than you imagine so be sure to (Look out)
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| For fallin' rocks, Venus fly traps and labyrinths
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| Straight hiphop, no gimmicks, no manuscripts
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| No faggot shit just a true b-boy
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| No ice, I got glow like Bruce Leroy
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| And I just wanna lay the ground rules down
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| Keep your seats, I own the fuckin' sound booth now
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| Cool down, chill out, unbutton your vest
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| I breathe beats and rhymes I ain’t fuckin' with techs
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| For real, I ain’t even duckin' and weavin'
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| If I hear a round go off, I’m like «fuck it I’m leavin'»
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| Right back to the place where it started
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| All the true heads will always be safe in the garden
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| And I know this.
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| But you know what?
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| I got like a 30 foot thorn hedge around my shit
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| I got a? |
| moped?
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| I even got ??? |
| by the entrance so don’t even try no shit
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| You gotta be real to step up in here
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| Enjoy the goddamn show |