| On my way to Fishtown headed back from Ambler
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| (in the system) I can see they hands up
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| This could be they anthem, this could be a go to
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| Boom bat rap with a knack for a boat shoe
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| Approach you, they goat you to poach you
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| And joke you, jerk you
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| Six ways to Sunday then Monday they merk you
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| Don’t buy this you should stick to yourself
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| Even dreams get hustled so be good to your health
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| All you have when the chips are low
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| An it can show, I’m back stage but I’m fit to blow
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| Top shelf when I spit my flow, be it fast or slow
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| It’s two tones but I bet you know
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| I get it in like a hole-in-one
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| And it’s been fun, but my shit’s like a stolen gun
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| Hot n' dirty, sippin' some vodka early
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| (Fuck rules here’s the Golden One)
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| (One) Never live my life like a chump does
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| That’s something that I just don’t like
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| (Two) Never bring a knife to a gun fight
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| They got guns so they probably won’t fight
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| (Three) Always take no for an answer
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| The yes' will come in due time
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| (Four) Always give a nice firm handshake
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| A dead fish simply can’t be ignored
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| Paisley tattoo on her butt cheek
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| Cheeky little lady if you ask me
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| And if you ask me 'bout them ass cheeks
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| I can verify them jawns is real
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| And if you got a problem with the BP
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| You can always come and just see me
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| I got an attitude like C3-PO meets the G called OG
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| Up goes Fraiser, Two Tone Rebel, misspell 'til you make it
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| Like dying Mike never thought that he could dance right
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| Then I saw the power of the rhythm of a past life
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| Figured take a few thwacks at it, I always loved third base
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| I-I-I-I never knew about collagen, but I could always save face
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| Hey, I sit in bed and pump the brakes before I start to feel drummin'
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| Different strokes, different folks, listen to the drummin'
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| 85 back beat bumpin' in the stomach
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| Got that one, two, three, four, fuck it who’s comin'?
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| Got that East Coast slang that’s plain to see
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| I’m the two one fist spitter (I'm the D-U-B)
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| But back back then man, go ATs, be B.I.G, Tu P-A-C
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| No O-P-P, I was K-I-D, no 40 40 tub, no H-O-V, no M-O-B, no crude up love
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| The hella big fella mellow 'til they all gun bug and then it’s on
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| () All the boppers want they numbers in my cellular phone
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| Who can blame 'em know we’re shammin' it’s a hell of a tone
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| And if they meet Lewis the dog then I throw 'em a bone
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| I’m talkin'
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| (One) Never live my life like a chump does
|
| That’s something that I just don’t like
|
| (Two) Never bring a knife to a gun fight
|
| They got guns so they probably won’t fight
|
| (Three) Always take no for an answer
|
| The yes' will come in due time
|
| (Four) Always give a nice firm handshake
|
| A dead fish simply can’t be ignored
|
| Paisley tattoo on her butt cheek
|
| Cheeky little lady if you ask me
|
| And if you ask me 'bout them ass cheeks
|
| I can verify them jawns is real
|
| And if you got a problem with the BP
|
| You can always come and just see me
|
| I got an attitude like C3-PO meets the G called OG |