| I’m never gon' quit, I’m never gon' stop
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| I’m never gon' give up until I’m on top
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| And when I’m on top, yeah I’mma bring it back
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| And I’mma show you how, you know what I’m about
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| Yo, I got rhymes for eons
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| If I make it rain, you’ll feel like you’ve been peed on
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| Y’all ain’t shit, y’all ain’t on the level that we on
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| «The Simplicity of Ghetto Noise» is my theme song
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| I’ve got 'em diving head-first into the Chesapeake
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| You bumped your head, you think you saw the last of me?
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| Well that’s blasphemy
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| Yo, it’s the Money Making Jam Boys bout to cause a rap-tastrophy
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| A bunch of corn balls jumping up and down
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| On the bandwagon exhausting its capacity
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| Man, y’all dudes really look embarrassing
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| My couplets are in love, every line’s marrying
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| Over to the next line it’s carrying
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| Smoke it like a blunt filled with diesel, I’m cherishing
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| All body that’s been dowsed in kerosene
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| I got money but a nigga still ghetto dreaming
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| Yo, when I’m thinking my brain’s like a silent alarm
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| When you flip out, that’s when I’m staying quiet and calm
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| My reaction’s to only do you bodily harm
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| Yo, that’s cold where my heart used to be, be warned
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| Don’t get close, cause when you get close you’ll scar
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| So I stay solo like the horn on a unicorn
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| Slit my throat before I wear a uniform
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| I’m on dope, dog food and Dom Perignon
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| My girl’s closet, the House of Dereon
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| One look at me, you can see I’m very on
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| I look at you, can’t believe the way you carry on
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| Man, that shit get you carried off stage
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| Talking bout me, get you buried by a gauge
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| Flipping through my money like I’m flipping through the page
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| Of the latest GQ, I’m bout to breeze through
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| Top down, what’s good nigga?! |