| Black mask, all black hoodies and black vans
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| A backpack full of dynamite, its my last chance
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| I can’t stand putting out heat and being ignored again
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| While all these other rats spit out garbage and get awarded
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| Am I losing it? |
| I wouldn’t be surprised, that don’t matter now
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| I’m blowing up regardless, tell everybody to gather 'round
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| Imagine how these YouTube Reactors gon' be reacting now
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| When they turn on the news and see label offices burning down
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| Yeah, call me public enemy number one
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| That’s a marketing that none of your money could buy
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| They said I’d never make it big, maybe they’re right
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| But I would rather break the system
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| Kiss the future of music goodbye!
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| I’m not the idol of the story kid
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| It’s more an allegory explaining how hard it is
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| To make it in the industry when you become a target
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| And now you’ll target the office, I’m 'bout to become a martyr! |
| (Yeah!)
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| They said «You wanna make it big? |
| Gotta dumb it down!»
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| I doubled up, yeah I’m coming with the thunder now!
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| And if you haven’t been acquainted to the sound
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| I would like to cordially welcome you to the Underground!
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| Yeah, come in with a bang like the best
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| And hang with some nerds
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| That keep it Strange like some Tech raps
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| And get past the judgement
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| I know that you get it when you see me
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| Oh he’s white! |
| He’s NF, MGK, or G-Eazy
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| Whoever’s poppin' at the time with some similar skin
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| I get compared to, saying I’m just a knock-off of him
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| See I don’t get it, either shits about the race
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| Or I’ve been finding every whitey before they make it and biting them
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| Yeah, I got my hand on the pulse
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| Only take it off to put my fucking hand on a throat
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| I dropped The Detour, made a name, carved it in stone
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| And now it’s Episode Two and it’s Attack Of The Clones
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| It goes:
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| One for the haters on the internet and talking
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| Two for the CDs I used to play in my Walkman
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| Three for the stages and festivals I’ve been rocking
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| And the shitty rappers ironically coming at me outta pocket
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| Wooh! |
| Yeah it’s passion, where you been at?
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| Harvesting the energy building up in the synapse
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| Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike
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| And it’s looking like the Doomsday clock is running outta time!
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| Yeah, tick-tock, rapper, lift-off!
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| And everybody secretly hoping for me to fail, listen
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| You could never do this shit like I do it, I started a movement
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| It never goes without me, move the position
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| Yeah, but they don’t wanna see the truth man
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| Neck is on the line, they’re keeping it on a noose, I
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| Am the biggest threat to the people in the suits, why?
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| You could never buy me or anything that I do
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| They try to sink the ship, keep us silent
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| And if I finally make some noise
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| Then I’mma die in a violent way like A Quiet Place
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| I’ll find a way to capture that monster armada, fighter race
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| And when I turn em back on you motherfuckers nobody’s safe
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| Yeah, and I’m just sick of getting written off
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| I load my tools in the whip, take a piss, and I’m off
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| A good man, but I’m pushed to the edge
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| And now I’m driving to the spot with a plan in my head, let’s go
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| (Man, fuck these motherfuckers. Man I’m so sick of this shit)
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| Dynamite in the bag
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| I’m at the record label office
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| I approach from the back
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| Sneaking up with chloroform to take the guard out quick
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| And disconnect the alarm, open the door with his fingerprints
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| Then I step in slow
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| Thinking 'bout my life and where I’m meant to go
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| Because I sat around for years watching friends get shelved
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| While these people got rich off a dream they sell, like fuck it
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| Already walked the perimeter
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| Making sure there ain’t no innocent people inside the radius
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| Then set devices in the floor of the lobby
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| Like I don’t wanna hurt nobody I’m just trynna make a statement
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| Heartbeat steady
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| Sweat drips down and I’m almost ready
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| Hella anxious but I’m keeping composed
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| Then take a real deep breath and I enter the code
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| Wooh! |
| That adrenaline pumping
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| Like I don’t know whats 'bout to happen
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| But I know we started something
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| So I run across the room to hit the door but it’s locked
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| Then I turn back to see the same guard with his gun cocked
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| «Hey, you don’t wanna be the hero, we can both run now
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| And we’ll be safe and sound, okay?»
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| I make a motion to the door another time
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| And right before I reach the handle
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| He puts three in my leg and I’m down
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| Fuck, It’s right about that time
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| I glance up and see his face transform into mine
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| And then he lowers the piece and says
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| «We both knew the music would kill us eventually, right?»
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| And then he closes in
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| Says «I know what we keep underneath this floor
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| But we’ll never get away like this, welcome back to the Det-» |