| Off the strength I’m not as numb as I thought
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| I’m broken links, my circle shrinking smaller
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| Satellite revolve my coarse culture
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| Surrendered orbits
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| Cross check what’s really real and what’s performance
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| Speak for self but wondering who else really on it
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| Who’s really all in?
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| Trouble calling
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| My phone don’t ping, I’m buzzed, leave me alone
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| Truth with a stashed pocket for a lie
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| The document is alive
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| I speak life
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| Every border gets revised if dissolved
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| With the fines what it’s charged
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| Haven’t made up my mind
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| If I’m assigned to the stars
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| I slide when I walk
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| I’m inside of the funk, trust
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| She want up when it dump
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| It came from the sludge
|
| Involuntary, shooting foundations in studs
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| Tears and snot bubbles, sob puddles
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| I, listen
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| Let’s not conflate, I give what I take
|
| It’s the hunt, there is the chase
|
| Some talk like they never got punched in the face
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| You can’t see clearly now, don’t come near me
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| Wails of the weary, infinite
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| Draw me closer, damn near intimate
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| The flyest sexy
|
| I came through over proofing the plastic Pepsi bottle
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| Security didn’t check me
|
| Skipped coat check, they planned the oldies
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| Imma go 'head and get sweaty
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| Plus saved the ten piece
|
| It’s hell up in Harlem so meet me
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| 'Cross 100 and 10th street
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| That don’t really tempt me
|
| I’m from where every car foreign and we drive 'em on empty (Zimbabwe)
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| Bury me in a borrowed suit
|
| Give my babies my rhyme books but tell 'em «Do you»
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| Give my enemies the good news, time flew
|
| We was probably brothers back then like TRU
|
| No jerseys, no durags, hard-bottom shoes
|
| Niggas tired of the foolishness
|
| No disrespect, its a lotta mids in the room
|
| My pack loud, cut right through
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| in the booth
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| So you ain’t get in the stew
|
| If the DJ play something smooth (Slide on 'em)
|
| It’s a move
|
| I don’t dance but maybe tonight
|
| Maybe tonight
|
| I don’t know her, and I don’t even mind if it is the strobe light
|
| Live for the living
|
| I made chicken late night in my boxers burning up the kitchen
|
| She passed out right when I was done fixing
|
| I watch reruns in the dark
|
| Fingers and lips glistening
|
| I’m so damn proud of myself
|
| I did this for you, G. Alright?
|
| Been to there and back, talk tales, talk to the breeze
|
| We keep facts in the midnight wax
|
| Family tree sap
|
| Lightly through the leaves on familiar tracks
|
| I know it’s real even when I’m feeling bad
|
| Resilient as they build to black
|
| She shimmy into the yeah, that’s consent gettin' established
|
| You only trash if you trash, I keep it simple and dynamic
|
| Trust the passage write to life’s chapters
|
| I have to write to find balance
|
| This game of telephone massive
|
| I do what I have to with the fragments
|
| The madness method rampant these days
|
| I let the panic pass me
|
| Featherweight, my heart was straight despite baggage
|
| Asymptomatic but I get sicker, the delay’s faster, faster
|
| Practicing, practicing what I preach, keep pace
|
| The calcium on my teeth fade
|
| The streets are blazed with the anger, complacency and deceit create
|
| Ice sheet break
|
| I couldn’t weak, wait
|
| All I could say to the times I couldn’t freeze frame, bleak fate
|
| You got so much to bleed to clean slate
|
| The bag of tricks in my sleeve breaks
|
| Southpaw under the north star
|
| Forcing all the league changes
|
| Don’t sleep baby |