| Sometimes it feels like
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| All I do is make beats smoke weed
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| And come up with these hi-deas, crazy hi-deas
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| I just make beats smoke weed
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| And come up with these hi-deas
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| I took a puff puff pass, before I finished touching up the track
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| Now my minds racing in circles and running laps
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| Trying to figure what to write and come up with these raps
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| But I’m struggling and fighting trying to surpass my past
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| Scribbling these words with these concepts and topics
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| Feeling like my vocab has almost been exhausted
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| I’m burning out trying to come up with these hi-deas
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| Like here’s an idea
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| I write a song about what I love and hate
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| Like I love to get the munchies but I hate the stomach aches
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| I love getting drunk but hate it the next morning
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| Hate the sound check, but always lovin' the performance
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| Love for the ladies with a lot of self confidence
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| But hate the attitude learn to take a fucking compliment
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| Hate for the critics and nah forget
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| Its back to the draw board let’s give them what they calling for
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| I’ve met so many people and been so many places
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| That’s why I want to write a song called forgotten faces
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| A lot of friends have come and gone and I’ll always remember them
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| But I can’t put a picture in my head that resembles them
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| And these are real friends that I hung every day
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| They built my character and attitude in many ways
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| From my teacher to my coaches to my school yard friends
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| Maybe someday I’ll see your face again
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| What a hi-dea
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| Aight let me try something different
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| Bring the strings in
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| And I’ve been trying to write a love song for my girl since I met her
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| Something real romantic like let’s get fat together
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| Sometimes nothings better than sitting on the couch eating whatever
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| Watching movie clips with taco chips and nacho dips and peppers (mhmm)
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| We had a couple ups and down and made it through
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| Love each other, our family, our sex and our food
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| These are words flowing on my pencil on this instrumental
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| Or maybe I should switch it up a bit adjust the tempo like
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| I change the beat if the topic ain’t working
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| Fall on the floor that’s perfect sounds current
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| Following the formula is that what you stand for?
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| How come all these douche bags keep running the dance floor?
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| Douche douche douche bag
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| Do it like this and you too can make a douche hit
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| You talking big game but never gonna do shit
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| Your girl ain’t smelling right tell her douche it
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| Dance, nah fuck it back to the music
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| I had this hi-dea about rock and roll
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| And how I think it’s similar to the way that hip hop will grow
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| They thought it was a fad made by African Americans
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| And no mother or dad wanted any children hearing 'em
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| Hated by the church they called it devil music
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| Now these Christian rock bands encourages kids to do it
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| Time changes everything I see it right now
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| It ain’t just hip hop or rock & roll it’s a lifestyle
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| All I do is make beats smoke weed
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| And come up with these hi-deas, crazy hi-deas
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| I just make beats smoke weed
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| And come up with these hi-deas, yeah
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| And now I’m getting so high (x2)
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| I was goin' to write a track called clichés, just talk about all those clichés
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| you see
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| Those clichés you hear in life
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| I was goin' to write a track called small town, I come from a small town
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| When things are a little bit slower
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| Everybody knows your name it’s just a little different
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| I was goin' to write a track called I know I shouldn’t do it but I love too
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| Like smoking this weed, guilty pleasures
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| Yeah crazy hi-deas |