| (2 Chainz!)
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| Yeah, yeah
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| Take 'em to church, I'm talkin' the tabernacle
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| It's the return of the body snatcher
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| Walk in the spot, make my woman smack ya (Whoo!)
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| In a fruit fight, I aim at your Adam's Apple
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| Pull up in the candy car eatin' a candy bar
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| And my girl eatin' a candy apple
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| Yuh, I line their ass up, I aim at their Cruiser
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| All of these stones on my neck, uh
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| They must have looked at Medusa
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| Pockets Rasputia of course, I drove some rims to court
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| I fucked some twins before, I had a Benz before
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| This is the sin report
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| This is the murder murder, pass the burner, Em
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| Your money shorter than an acronym
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| Big body when I'm backin' in
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| Ladi-dadi, got a bunch of bodies, nigga
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| Fakin', nigga, human traffickin' (woo)
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| I'm on the Act again, this ain't a accident
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| King like Ak-ron
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| I run the trap again, you on the treadmill (treadmill)
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| Never, Neverland shit came with a Ferris wheel (goddamn)
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| Ferris day off, baby, AR in the same car
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| Most of y'all my sons, aww, look at little JR
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| F-12 same color Kate Moss, ugh, I'm talkin' wrist in the pot
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| I'm talkin' this and you not, I'm talkin' bricks and you not
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| I'm talkin' straight up and down, nigga, like 6 o'clock
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| This is the equinox, this what the people want
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| Somebody at the door, I heard the speaker knock, uh
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| I'm at your throat like Chloraseptic, 'septic
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| And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
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| This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
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| I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless, yeah
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| Do me a favor, don't do me no favors
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| These bitches got flavors
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| They all wanna smoke but ain't doin' no labor
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| But they shoppin' at Raleys, they stingin' like tasers
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| Act Hollywood like they play for the Lakers
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| They fly on the latest
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| Crocs, alligators, say hi to my haters
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| Pardon my neighbor, we eatin'
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| That chicken, lobster, potatoes
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| You must be sniffin' that yayo
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| If you don't think I'm that nigga
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| Swagger on 10 since a day old
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| It's a-okay though, whippin' up whip like it's mayo
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| Every track is a K.O., fuck nigga, K.O
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| Go off your head like I'm Ayo
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| Out of this world, talkin' NATO
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| It's 'cos of jail, don't be an A-hole
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| 'Cause I got shooters that shoot when I say so, like Lord
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| Wanna be in my shoes, you ain't paid no dues
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| Real nigga, you ain't break no rules
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| High school, niggas ate your food
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| Might dumb it down a little, but I ain't no fool
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| Niggas hate every day, B (yeah)
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| Shit is O.C. |
| lately (yeah)
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| Gotta break 'em off with these Dre beats (yeah)
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| Or I might go crazy (yeah)
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| These niggas too goddamn lazy
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| Don't ever, ever, ever try to play me
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| Lil' shawty now comin' from BK
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| But I'm tryna come up like JAY-Z
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| Nothin' but love from my heart
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| I feel entitled to titles
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| Fuck it, man, I want the title
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| My mission is
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| I'm at your throat like Chloraseptic, 'septic
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| And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
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| This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
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| I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless, yeah
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| Bin Laden with a pen, body it again
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| I begin slaughterin' your men, prolly shoulda been
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| Ali or the Svengali embodiment of sin
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| Like a Saudi in the Taliban plotting an event
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| In the lobby of the Intercontinental
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| With an obvious intent
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| And I will not even relent up on a little
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| Like Osama with a bomb under the bin
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| And down the middle of the Pentagon
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| And hit a kindergartener with a rental, stop!
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| Back and forth, back and forth
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| Like Jack Kevorkian's ass to court
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| Rap mature, why can't you be like Macklemore? |
| Huh?
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| Why you always gotta smack a whore?
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| It's likely the psychiatric ward's a last resort
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| Something's gotta give, that's for sure
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| Yet you keep comin' back for more
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| Not as raw as I was, "'Walk on Water' sucks"
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| Bitch, suck my dick
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| Y'all saw the tracklist and had a fit 'fore you heard it
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| So you formed your verdict
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| While you sat with your arms crossed
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| Did your little reaction videos and talked over songs (Chill!)
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| Nah, dog, y'all sayin' I lost it, your fuckin' marbles are gone
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| But nowadays, every flow, every cadence sounds the same
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| Brain's a powder keg, I draw inspiration outta hate
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| Real pain in the paper, I don't trace
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| But if I look strange and out of place |
| It's 'cause I'm an alien, that's why I write 'til the page is outta space, yeah
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| From 7 Mile in Novara to "How can I be down?"
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| All of us tryna pile in the car (yeah!), we shot for the stars, yeah
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| 'Cause we only got so much time in this world (yeah!)
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| So rewind it to your high school dance to the night before
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| If you think you're promised tomorrow (yeah!)
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| Now I'm 'bout to fool again
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| This tune is sick, it's luminous, the moon is lit
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| A freakin' lunatic, a human computer chip
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| And I'm soon to stick a broom in the uterus of your Hooters chick
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| If I was you I wouldn't do nothin' stupid due to the mood I'm in
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| I'm losin' it, you get chewed like a Junior Mint
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| Show me who to rip, it's time for you to get screwed
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| Empty the lubricant and put super glue in it
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| How many fuckin' rappers did I go through?
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| Dispel doubt but you won't admit I smoked
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| And you was spellbound, hellbound in my snowsuit
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| But am I s'posed to sound like everything else out?
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| 'Cause I don't get compared to it, only myself now
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| And I can see the fair-weather fans and sales down
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| But the only way I care is if I let myself down
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| But what the fuck have I awoke to?
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| Time to eat the vocals and shit out Pro Tools
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| I know you still want me to ill out, don't you?
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| Hopin' the old Slim's gonna spill out, open fire
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| On your whole camp with this spit I wrote you
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| So chill out, no, you hoes couldn't roast me with the shit I wrote you
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| Then I took a stand, went at Tan-Face
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| And practically cut my mothafuckin' fan base in half and still outsold you
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| You just called my shit trash
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| Thank God, I rap better when the odds are stacked
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| "Revival's wack, I don't like the 'Zombie' track
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| Or when he's talkin' that garbage psychotic crap
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| Where's your content at? |
| What's with all the conscious rap?
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| P!nk, Beyoncé this and Kehlani that" (yeah)
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| I just added to the fuel in my rocket pack
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| 'Til I'm ready to respond, then I'ma launch it at 'em
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| Idiotic from the fuckin' embryonic sac
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| To the bodybag, I'll be back
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| And when I am, I'll be at your fuckin' throat like—
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| Like Chloraseptic |