| Uh, yeah, wassup wassup
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| Alright, new shit, uh, yeah, uh
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| Who really tryin' to fuck with destiny
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| Kitchen full of chefs without a recipe
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| Kitchen full of knives and scared of weaponry
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| Kitchen full of naps, ain’t never sleepin'
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| Up to slaughter motherfuckas in the evening
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| Top of the morning
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| Out there, morning with a casket full of coffee
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| Sprinkled over pure Colombian
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| Kept your training, hope they don’t go dumb again
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| Catch a flame and watch them all go numb, amen
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| The pastor do with Hail Mary the gun again, unh
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| I am the son of sin, the son of Sam, iambic
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| Then board the plane to Belgium for the lambic
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| Board the plane for Pakistan for panic
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| Pour to drain the packet in the jewel case in the jacket
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| Jack attacks refund and smack it
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| With a bar code on a bitch throat
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| Go hard though on a bitch though
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| When a bitch go where a bitch go
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| Where the bitches at, where the dicks go
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| Where the raw low, where the new tec
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| Where the mil or don’t shoot yet
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| But do bet will make a crew wet
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| Will make a grown ass motherfucka two-step
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| Steppin' out on everything
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| Step up, step up, step on over to the fuckin' rain
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| Get your weight up, wait a minute, motherfucka sang
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| Canary yellow diamonds redefine the kind of bling
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| Every time they come around you say to kill 'em all
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| Kill the noise, kill the beat, assassinate the bar
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| Barbarian, no hesitation, fuck it, lay 'em all
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| Down for the night
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| Tell 'em the sandman said suck it right
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| Fuck your dream up like a…
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| Huh, yeah, get that new album |