| Open the gate, all hail his grace
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| They ruled the Golden State great, so wavy (Hey)
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| Please tell it, Los Angelic
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| 6'3″, spongy, frail, never relic
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| Black Jesus, the fact was that my thesis
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| They would try to kill us off in regions
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| Snapback, white L crossin' an A
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| Green hat, yellow A when I was in the Bay (Hey)
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| Rickey Henderson, a base-stealing general
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| An A-1 guy, always loved by the women friends
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| Herut-hless, Defari’s jurisprudence
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| I bleed, I bleed soul through the music
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| Mass transit, we always rap bandits
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| In Europe, with Dilated, fantastic
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| In Australia with acts like what’s next
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| Passports stamped, come through, connect (Wavy)
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| Who God bless, no one curse
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| Who God bless, no one curse
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| Who God bless, no one curse
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| Who God bless, no one curse
|
| Life ain’t a fair sport
|
| I feel alive on the 405, passin' the airport
|
| Tee-top's off, he’s so Vette-y
|
| I’m a pro in the Chevy, man, I just blast off
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| Way past y’all, I keep the haters in my rearview
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| Man, I just blast off
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| Tell 'em all, it ain’t shit to be a grown man at night and lightweight ball
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| (That's regular shit) As for that, Defari is a rare lad
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| These rhymes are from a rare lab
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| Down in Venice, a town that’s renown menace
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| Ghost town, pops and them, West really
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| It’s still Lakers, it’s still execute these bums
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| R.I.P. |
| Roc Raida
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| Have mercy, God knows I’m so thirsty
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| Every beat is like liquid |