| You know the type of girl that walks in front of you and makes your jaw drop?
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| She talks in riddles, and sort of tickles your soft spot
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| You see her in the club. |
| She treats you like a scrub
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| She ain’t trippin’off you, she got your whole crew in love
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| Your day dreamin’of getting her in the bedroom alone
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| Straight feedin', You’s beg like a dog for the bone
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| And she’s peepin', and the reason is she knows
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| Theres a demon in between your legs with a mind of its own
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| Now, you’re a weakling, overwhelmed with hormones
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| Y’all start speakin', she grabs the number to your phone
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| And next weekend you invite her to your home
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| You weren’t even thinking. |
| You got played by a pro
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| She’s a big shot. |
| Thick lips, nice legs, green eyes
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| Took advantage of a thousand. |
| Only slept with three guys
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| Ain’t a hoe or a groupie. |
| Jane Doe or a Lucy
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| Her innocent looks are deceving, so I’m telling you to be wise
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| I know she’s a cutie, but there’s power in that coochie
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| Underneath those booty tight, cutoff, daisy-dooksy Levi’s
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| She’s a big shot. |
| You know your dream girl
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| She knows how to use her looks to take advantage of the world
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| She’s a big shot. |
| You thought you could school her
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| She dissed you like you were neutered, and told you to go get a sexual tutor
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| She’s a big shot. |
| She wouldn’t touch your ruler
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| She’s so beutiful. |
| A cute but cruel looter, user and abuser
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| She’s a big shot. |
| Your eyes are glued to her behind
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| You know her steeze, but you fall for it every time
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| Now, what about that popular school kid?
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| The always have been, always will be cool kid?
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| The class president valedictorian. |
| «A plus», star quaterback
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| Cadillac convertible drivin', signin’cheerleaders autorgraphs
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| The letter on the jacket. |
| Medal around the neck
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| Pin on his chest, and mind on his rep
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| He only dates models. |
| Drinks his Summit from the bottle
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| When he walks he waddles, and he ain’t never lost a squabble
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| He put you in the locker, and took your girlfriend to prom
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| He’s in your life everyday, and you can’t wait 'til he’s gone
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| But daddy owns a business, so it won’t be long
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| Before he inherits it, makes carats, and sings a rich man’s song
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| He’s got the most expensive clothes and jewerly to wear
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| While your looking for a job, he’s looking in the mirror
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| He walks the halls surrounded by is fan club
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| Starts fads, ends trends, and hits the ceiling when he stands up He’s a preppy, fame hoggin', pig headed fool
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| When he has a party, everyone’s invited except you
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| And your crew. |
| And there really ain’t nothin’y’all can do He’s in every state, city, and town, as long as they got a school
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| He’s a big shot. |
| Thick knot in his wallet
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| Parents got enough money to send your whole family to college
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| He’s a big shot. |
| Testosterone thirsty
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| Hallway fahter figure with his masculianity stained on his jersey
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| He’s a big shot. |
| I.B. |
| class whiz-kid
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| Braggin’about a big dick, that chick and this chick
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| He’s a big shot.
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| My favorites are rappers, the egoistical bastards
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| The people that never clap for your set, they think you’re whacker
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| Than them 'cause they’re the masters
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| I bet disaster is caused in their mind when you rhyme
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| and plaster their jaws shut with a fat verse
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| To him you’re a hazard. |
| Weak matter. |
| A reason for laughter
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| He’s preachin’he’s live. |
| But he’s only that word backwards
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| After he dies, you can climb the ladder, start a chapter
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| Art you’ll capture finally.
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| But while he breathes, m.c.'s don;t even flatter him
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| Add a tad if his acrobatical arrogance
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| To his genteically engineered emotional pattern of tearin’kids in battles
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| That’ll explain why he mean mugs. |
| He told ya’your team sucks
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| Said you dream of choking him with that mic cord
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| Instead, he blows your mind straight out your head
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| He says, «Fuck You!"with clarity. You cry hysterically
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| As it makes a parody of your passion
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| You tell friends you think he’s tight
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| but secretly, you hope his career won’t be lasting
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| 'Cause he’s an asshole. |
| But you know he’s got nice sound
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| You know what else? |
| Your looking at him right now
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| I’m a big shot. |
| Don’t front, you know you love me Girls never wash their hands after they get a chance to touch me
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| I’m a big shot. |
| Hey, you can say I’m a creep
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| But put me in a room with your idols and I’ll make 'em look weak
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| I’m a big shot. |
| Shit, can nobody fade me The only way we can do a song is if somebody pays me
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| I’m a big shot. |
| Big Shot. |
| Big Props
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| The best thing to ever happen in the history of hip hop |