| I take a grown man shit in your back pack, pardon me
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| Fuck your rap anarchy song, I’m Jack Donaghy
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| So I sound hard like the weight company
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| And live comfortably on the blood of cats that act modestly
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| Time to be a man again, stop being a mannequin
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| Pope, time to flee the Vatican
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| Helicopter leavin', now we gotta free my man and them
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| It’s time to pull a motherfuckin' rabbit out the hat again
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| And choke
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| Damn, you done a pound of it
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| I’ll tell you if the price right when I’m done countin' it
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| My weapons hard to earn, you got a lot of nerve
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| Steppin' in my direction and beggin' for a pound of it
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| The best under, gettin' texts from your girlie
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| She ridin' on fours like the Kentucky Derby
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| A sexual squirting got my
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| But she too fly, so you could say the
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| When it comes to brain, the ladies got an open mind
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| They say God will, and maybe if I’m so inclined
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| I’m 5'8″, a buck fifty
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| Even David Beckham ain’t affecting any code of mine
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| If you never heard of me, fuck it
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| You got moves like Jagger but the blood of Freddie Mercury
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| I barely fit that line, but had to spit that line
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| Don’t let you know how to care if you don’t work with me
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| tape makers, I’m really more like date rapists
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| They never ask for permission, they harass you to listen
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| If you stand for tradition then they laugh and dismiss it
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| So I’m back just to piss upon it, fake players
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| I’mma do the world wrong
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| I got homies that’ll fuck you up just to get on WorldStar
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| You call that a bar? |
| I wipe the stool on it
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| And gave your boo the Bubonic, now you got it |