| La, la, la, la, la — and e’rybody say
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| La, la, la, la, la — I know you, I know you…
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| I know you’re thinking, thinking that it must be
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| I’m a raw flow cause it never get rusty
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| I aint gotta say it, man dawg trust me Bust somebody head, T.L.C. |
| where was we?
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| Still rock the prada 'fore that, rock the Starter
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| Niggas out in Georgetown, and Magic way harder
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| Thinking back to the projects, and they way they tore 'em all up Like when I do a project, and come back and tear the mall up We coming from the.
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| South (side), South (side)
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| South (side), South (side)
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| South (side), South (side)
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| South (side), Side of the Chi
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| The broads, the cars, the half moon, the stars
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| I’m like Jeff Fort the way I get behind bars
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| Burn cd’s with no regard for the stars
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| Come to the grip with conflict, diamonds and the arts
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| Back in '94 they call me Chi-town's Nas
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| Now them niggas know I’m one of Chi-town's gods
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| We even yo, you’re still talking no cause
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| A conscious nigga with mac like Steven Jobs
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| Your fly is open, McFly
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| The crowd is open I think I know why
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| I’m back from the future seen it with my own eyes
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| And yep, I’m still the future of the Chi
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| Back in college I had to get my back up off the futon
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| I knew that I couldn’t cop a coup with no coupons
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| Look at that neutron on his green like two dimes
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| People asking him, «Do you have any grey poupon?»
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| You in the building but the buildings falling
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| You wouldn’t be ballin’if your name is Baldwin
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| My mind get flooded I think about New Orleans
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| Back in school, ya’ll niggas you should call in August
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| Summer sun it goes down but I’m still revolving
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| Southside 'bout to walk it out, I still get crawling
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| If rap was Harlem, I be James Baldwin
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| With money in the bank like G. Rap, we’re calling
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| With niggas masked up like Phantom of the Opera
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| Dreaming of the day they push a phantom to the operas
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| Can’t wait till they say, «Yeah, he ran up at the Oscars.»
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| Poppa, I heard his life is like a movie
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| Like when Em’played him and Mekhi played a rasta
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| Mexican don’t love it like it was for La Raza
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| But this is for the mobsters, Holla
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| We some true chi-town legends, accept no imposters
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| Uh, the un-American idol, tower like the Eiffel
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| Lean wit it, rock wit it, back like the disciples
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| Know when to use a bible, and when to use a rifle
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| You rap like you should be on the back of a motorcycle
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| Caught a case of robbery, and 'Beat It’like Michael
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| Your career is a typo, mine was written like a haiku
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| I write to 'Do the Right Thing’like Spike do Do crime fixed is crucial and trauma is psycho
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| La, la, la, la, la, la, la-la
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| La, la, la, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la, la, la La, la, la, la, la, la, la We’re coming from the… Hey!
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| Ya might have to spice it up Spice it up, spice it up,
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| Take your life and…
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| Yo, we’re coming from the… Hey!
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| We’re coming from the… Hey!
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| …and this concludes our Chicago show
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| Please stay tuned |