| Whoa, whoa
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| What the *plurrr is this, YO!
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| They say I’m 730, say I spaz out
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| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
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| Can y’all feel my pain?
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| I can’t let it slide
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| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside?
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| Yo how can we start this
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| My life is thorough never heartless
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| I laid it down from the Gate to the St Louis arches
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| From the windy city to the streets in Cali
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| To them streets in Houston
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| My niggas always boostin'
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| Some bitches always holla
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| How they don’t spend a dolla
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| But that’s because they ain’t got it Now tell me where’s the logic
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| And if I talk it — I’ve done did it or about to do it
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| I’m making anthems, got a million niggas bouncin’to it Bust your guns!
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| And if that ain’t enough then bust again
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| I’ve been thuggin’since B-I-Z made Just A Friend
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| Matter of fact ever since Flava Flav was rockin’clocks
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| And even then there was no bitch that could compare to Fox
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| Let me head knock, Pretty you wit’me right
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| This Prada fit me tight, this Gucci fit me right
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| Who could quickly write like seven joints and it be tight?
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| You know how hood we sound, you know it’s Boogie Brown
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| Yo they say I’m 730, say I spaz out
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| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
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| But can y’all feel my pain?
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| I can’t let it slide
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| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside?
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| They say I’m 730, say I spaz out
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| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
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| But can y’all feel my pain?
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| I can’t let it slide
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| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside?
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| Yo my life is full of problems
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| Sometimes it’s hard to dodge 'em
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| So much you couldn’t fathom
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| I wish I didn’t have them
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| They say I’m 7−30, pretty but I rap too dirty
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| The law is criticizing me and probably never heard me So what I crashed my Range
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| My last name ain’t changed
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| This time it’s different though
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| I’m not exploiting names
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| Yeah I write my shit
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| It’s not a fucking game
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| So what he wrote some songs
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| I blew him up the same
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| I’m never ducking dames
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| Y’all know just where to find me I would’ve killed her but it just wouldn’t be fair to mommie
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| Imagine me doing time, Foxy behind bars
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| Not me the crime star
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| Y’all bitches ain’t worth it Although my life ain’t perfect, I’ll never change a thing
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| Y’all want success but y’all don’t know about the pain it bring
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| It’s supposed to make you happy and keep your paper long
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| This beat is kind of ill
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| How could you hate this song?
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| Yo they say I’m 730, say I spaz out
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| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
|
| But can y’all feel my pain?
|
| I can’t let it slide
|
| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside?
|
| They say I’m 730, say I spaz out
|
| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
|
| But can y’all feel my pain?
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| I can’t let it slide
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| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside?
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| Man some hoes is always yackin'
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| Like I can’t make it happen
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| Like they don’t know my cash
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| Like they don’t know my past
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| Especially pop star bitches with the soft image
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| So what I ain’t with him
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| BITCH! |
| He’s off limits
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| Be where I always be See who I choose to see
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| Although we’re not together, his heart belong to me See at times I think y’all bitches be confusing me Like I’m somethin’sweet, shorty I’m still street
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| You’re not on my level, and I won’t stoop
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| And I’m the one that got you, kicked out your own group
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| Chicks be always thinkin’that I’mma let it ride
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| I might not kill you but I’ll hurt you till your dead inside
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| Third album and you still wanna test Brown
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| I’m so hood bitches know how boogie get down
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| It could be real drama
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| It’s still the Ill Na Na There ain’t a bitch wilda
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| Any beef? |
| Holla!
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| They say I’m 730, say I spaz out
|
| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
|
| But can y’all feel my pain?
|
| I can’t let it slide
|
| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside?
|
| They say I’m 730, say I spaz out
|
| FB is ill, she’ll wild out
|
| But can y’all feel my pain?
|
| I can’t let it slide
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| How could I smile when I’m hurtin’so bad inside? |