| These days rappers are shitty
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| Really gritty, that’s what my style is
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| I culture shock the most
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| We boast, but yet we modest
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| Fuck stereotypes, we’ve spent many a nights
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| Fightin' the likes of hypocrites with every a mic
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| We bold
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| Poetic slave but I ain’t never been sold
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| Or I was told to move my prose and go for gold
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| Oh, no you didn’t
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| Think I was bullshittin'
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| My gift of gab is real as troops sittin'
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| Brown skin warriors, in the Middle East
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| Words are pen and piece of rapin'
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| (For real, nothing’s sacred)
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| In these last days, where corny rap’s the crackcane
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| While I map waves to validate my rap days
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| Caught in the tension, some call the art of suspension, we
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| Pursue the heart and use the art as a weaponry
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| Pursue the heart and use the art as a weapon, see?
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| Pursue the heart and use the art as a weapon, yo
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| (Cise Star):
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| Soft radiance, baby I’m in the moonlight
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| Get in a groove until you move right
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| Come on baby, we gon' live life
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| Hold tight, lose sight, it’s alright
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| Soft radiance, baby I’m in the moonlight
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| Get in a groove until you move right
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| Come on baby, we gon' live life
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| Hold tight, lose sight, it’s alright
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| It’s alright
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| For my midnight fever brushing my shoulders
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| I’m stepping out in the club, the Cise is the renaissance
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| Bringin' it back to slowin' it down
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| From the up to downtown, nigga I get around
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| The people they know me, I’m taking this slowly
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| This city is mine, you blind son, only the lonely
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| Stand at the top, I’m chased by the haters and cops
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| That don’t wanna see a nigga shine, I own the block
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| You fuckin' wit' him? |
| You fuckin' wit me
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| You betta believe you might leave with blood on your sleeve
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| Wreckin' the place and put a sour taste in your face
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| Escapin' the grace and got one foot in the grave
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| The money you made, lyrical art disseminate
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| Oppress the mind like lyrical and biblical days
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| We ready to take him, you niggas are hatin'
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| Motherfucker, you what? |
| Talk shit, I ain’t playin'
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| Now
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| Soft radiance, baby I’m in the moonlight
|
| Get in a groove until you move right
|
| Come on baby, we gon' live life
|
| Hold tight, lose sight, it’s alright
|
| Soft radiance, baby I’m in the moonlight
|
| Get in a groove until you move right
|
| Come on baby, we gon' live life
|
| Hold tight, lose sight, it’s alright
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| (Akin)
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| Ay, yo
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| I’m feelin' off balance, you know my style’s kinda different
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| It’s not quite commercial, yet beyond the ground vision
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| Catch me in stores, a nigga fall between giants
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| Yet I just do it fluid, I’m classic, check the mind
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| Before the tours of all types, what flavor are yours?
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| You can get it now or later, niggas headed for morgues
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| I bring it, crime and king, while emcees get thrown
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| Right out the ring, wit' yo' bling shit, it’s sing-along
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| (For real)
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| I got a fetish to rock a true beat boy
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| Rock steady when I grip mics, my clone is a decoy to trap
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| Wack niggas explorin' the thought of battlin'
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| I double dare you to come near fool, I’m better than
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| Michael Jack, you talk then I might go slap
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| Taste out your mouth, damn look, now you’re bitter
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| Quitter, after you heard me and Clyde rip
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| Them boys like 'put that down, you got a vise grip'
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| (Cise Star)
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| Soft radiance, baby I’m in the moonlight
|
| Get in a groove until you move right
|
| Come on baby, we gon' live life
|
| Hold tight, lose sight, it’s alright
|
| Soft radiance, baby I’m in the moonlight
|
| Get in a groove until you move right
|
| Come on baby, we gon' live life
|
| Hold tight, lose sight, it’s alright
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| It’s alright |