| Tay Keith, fuck these niggas up!
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| Yeah
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| Brain dead, eye drops
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| Pain meds, cyclops
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| They bed, iPod
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| Maybach, my bach
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| Trainwrecks, sidewalks
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| Pay less, high-tops
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| K-Fed, iHop
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| Playtex, ice spots
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| That's how much we have in common (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (whoa!)
|
| Up on this mic, when we're on it (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (woo!)
|
| That's how much we have in common
|
| We are not alike, there's not alike us on the mic (yeah!)
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| I don't do Jordans and Audemars
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| I do explosions and Molotovs
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| Y'all blowin' smoke as if y'all ain't washed
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| I blow the smoke from the car exhaust
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| Flyin' to a party I am not invited to, feelin' like the streets need me
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| I ain't gotta dance long as my Ferrari Spyder move like C Breezy
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| I don't gotta hire goons
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| I'd rather try to buy the moon and breathe freely
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| The sky is blue, the tie is new
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| The Maserati white and cool like G-Eazy
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| While these dudes tryna figure out
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| How to do a freestyle as fly as me
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| I'm confused tryna figure out how to do Kapri Styles and Mya G
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| Everybody doin' chick joints
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| Probably rob these little dudes at fist point
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| Remember everybody used to bite Nickel
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| Now everybody doin' Bitcoin
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| We don't got nothin' in common (no)
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| We don't got nothin' in common (no)
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| Y'all into stuff like doubled-up Styrofoam cups
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| On them uppers-and-downers (woo!)
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| I'm into stuff like doublin' commas
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| Find me a brother who's solid
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| To count the shit up and then bust the shit down
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| When the cops hit us up, we can flush the shit down
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| We can not give a fuck, shit, a fuckin' colonic
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| Sellin' your cock and your butt for a follower
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| Possible cup, for dollars you powder sniff
|
| Now you're slippin', call it a power trip, a product of politics
|
| Y'all went from profit and toppin' the charts
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| To dropped in the park in a pile of shit
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| Knowledge is power, but powerless
|
| If you got it and you do not acknowledge it
|
| Y'all music sound like Dr. Seuss inspired it
|
| Hirin' strippers, prostitute retirin'
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| We can spit it for ya advance
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| I'm fit to be king, you're cut out to fit in Prince pants
|
| You niggas—
|
| Brain dead, eye drops
|
| Pain meds, cyclops
|
| They bed, iPod
|
| Maybach, my bach
|
| Trainwrecks, sidewalks
|
| Pay less, high-tops
|
| K-Fed, iHop
|
| Playtex, ice spots
|
| That's how much we have in common (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (whoa!)
|
| Up on this mic, when we're on it (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (woo!)
|
| That's how much we have in common
|
| We are not alike, there's not alike us
|
| You say you're affiliated with murderers, killas (ayy)
|
| The people you run with are thuggin' (gang)
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| But you're just a wannabe gunna (gang)
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| Like you was gonna do somethin'
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| Actin' like you catchin' bodies (ayy)
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| And you got juice, lil' youngin, you're buggin'
|
| You ain't never even been charged in connection with battery
|
| Bitch, you ain't plugged in to nothin'
|
| Rap God spit lyrical bullets (boom)
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| And gats cock, your partners better tool up
|
| This has not to do with muscular
|
| But have guns for sure, you better put a
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| Strap on, in other words if you're gonna
|
| Roll up with your (gang) you're gon' need a Arsenal
|
| 'Cause this bar is over your head
|
| So you better have arms if you're gonna pull up (skrrt)
|
| Oh, you run the streets, huh?
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| Now you wanna come and fuck with me, huh?
|
| This little cock-sucker, he must be feelin' himself
|
| He wants to keep up his tough demeanor
|
| So he does a feature, decides to team up with Nina
|
| But next time you don't gotta use Tech N9ne
|
| If you wanna come at me with a sub, Machine Gun
|
| And I'm talkin' to you, but you already know who the fuck you are, Kelly
|
| I don't use sublims and sure as fuck don't sneak-diss
|
| But keep commentin' on my daughter Hailie
|
| I keep on tellin' motherfuckers, bitches, in case you forgot really
|
| I need Ja memories, jaw like strawberry or pineapple, apricot jelly
|
| I respond rarely, but this time Shady 'bout to sound off
|
| Like a fuckin' cocked semi Glock, demi-god
|
| Let me put a fucking silencer on this little non-threatening blond fairy cornball takin' shots at me
|
| You're not ready, fool, break yourself like Rocksteady Crew |
| Obviously, I'm not gettin' through
|
| We can get it poppin' like Redenbach, lettin' off like Remy Ma
|
| Heavy artillery, Godzilla harsh with a hard shell
|
| With a motherfuckin' heart bigger than Bizarre's belly
|
| Only time you'll ever say I lost
|
| You'll be talkin' 'bout Fetty Wap, better call Diddy
|
| Just to try to get me off and you better hope I don't call Trick Trick
|
| Bitch, this shit don't fly in our city
|
| Punk, you don't disrespect OGs, R.I.P. |
| Prodigy
|
| Sold Dre my soul and I told him
|
| The moment he signed me that I'll be the most hated though made it soldier
|
| There's no shame, it's okay to own it
|
| 'Cause life is a bitch, she's a bow-legged ho
|
| But now those days are over
|
| I Harvey Weinstein a bathrobe hangin' over
|
| My code name is groper, I roleplay with lotion
|
| I fuck the whole world then I throw away the Trojan
|
| Olay the hoes like with home-made explosives
|
| I blow eighty holes in you
|
| Don't make me go in, I OJ the flows and I'm insult to injury
|
| Rolex to Goldman I throws Dre a Motrin, I throated Nicole
|
| As they both hate to choke and my whole plate is soakin'
|
| And I double-edge sworded 'cause one place I poke and
|
| I stick and I turn in a rotatin' motion
|
| Invisible with the pen
|
| I'm at the pinnacle of sick individuals
|
| Take my dick and put the tip in at minimal
|
| I'm fuckin' these syllables
|
| I let them lick on my genitals
|
| I'm a fucking invincible, indefensible, despicable difficult prick
|
| A little bit unpredictable, I spit the formidable
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| That you're bitches are fuckin' with, the original
|
| I consider me and Nickel identical
|
| But not us
|
| The only thing we have in common is I'm a dick and you suck
|
| Otherwise one has nuttin' to do with the other
|
| None comes close to skunk, bug, soldier
|
| Tongue, shrub, shoulder, one month older
|
| Sponge, mob, colder, none, rug, hoaster
|
| Lug, nut, coaster, lung, jug roaster
|
| Young Thug poster, unplugged toaster
|
| That's how much we have in common (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (whoa!)
|
| Up on this mic, when we're on it (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (yeah!)
|
| That's how much we have in common (woo!)
|
| That's how much we have in common
|
| We are not alike, there's not alike us—
|
| (Man, fuck this shit, let's go) |