| Without me getting to sentimental, I want to say
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| Drink my warm piss on ninety degrees summer day
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| You run away without a modeling agency
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| God has been praising me
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| Lately on my songs been amazing me
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| As Islamic as Asia be
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| But as Christian as Kanye
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| Quote scriptures from psalms page
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| And hit a bitch in the broad day
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| Underground hereditary, you see me and mom and pops
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| We don’t clear samples, no duty free vodka shots
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| Bruce B, Scott Le Rock mixed with Bruce Lee, Kookie
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| Charles Manson, all his grandsons bully D pops and Pac
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| Weed session, so they both cashed out like a recession
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| Please bless them, before the seven deadly sins and greed gets them
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| Probably a little too late, honestly
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| Copy is a two tape prodigy, you fakes honor me
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| You take just you wait, watch and see
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| If you hate modesty, you will love me
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| You bootleg chopping knees
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| Pick up your bird, we swerve in a rental cruse
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| I serve her the genital, she bite like its where their originals
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| I might murder her in the news
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| You heard of her in the news
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| They didn’t catch the killer
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| I went back to get her purse
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| And filled her hearse with cats and litter
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| Killer verse, is lacking filler
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| Rap until a lung collapse
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| I swing him off his fucking axe
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| Lets kill it back until it crashes into Saturn
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| My patterns are madder than mothers against drunks
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| Shattering rims, dunk
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| Can battle him after we gets up
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| Oh pardon me, I’m having an out of body experience
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| My body’s out of my body, out in the lobby hearing this
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| Smoked a dozen times, while you wrote the dime a dozen rhymes
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| While you headlined and wondered how I poked, a dozen die
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| King of my city’s Kong
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| While some dummy getting on
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| Which is as unbelievable as a brand new biggie song
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| I’m no hoochie, that’s plain to see
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| I’m about as far as G as A-Z
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| Please for you, watch your P’s and Q’s
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| Before I cross your T’s, Drop your I’s and leave you bruised
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| «He the sharpest motherfucker, and he always on point
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| Razor sharp, with the rhymes, whatever.»
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| Specialize in petty theft, sneak into your treasure chest
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| Take every cent, but leave a penny left, thieve your NES
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| You went to drama speak, puffed two tons of chron a week
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| Sonic heat on the beat, clocking two hundred dollar sneaks
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| Who wants to beef? |
| I’m packing two kinds of heat
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| I’m mac-ing two kinds freaks
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| Bring a napkin to wipe her cheeks
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| Forty inch cable chain
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| Hanging swang like orangutang
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| Save you some fatal pain
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| Never gaze you will sprain your brain
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| And move behind me
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| Doing ninety with brew inside me
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| Do a high speed chase
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| If the troopers find me, who’s beside me?
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| Code name C.I.B., loosing you cats
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| If I’m moving too fast
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| Please stop me, mock three when I chief broccoli
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| I’m sparking a dark hash
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| Nervous with the warrant
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| Watching Cops, hoping its not my apartment they knock at
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| You started, ill stop that
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| With a new Glock, I copped that
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| Target the pop at
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| Any cats that wanted they spot back
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| «Heavy airplay all day, with no chorus» x4 |