| It’s that motherfucking time again
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| Tell my diary what’s on my mind again
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| Just play a beat, I’ma crack an ice cold Heineken
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| The studio that Pac got shot in, currently I’m rhyming in
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| If you told my younger self that this the place you find me in
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| I would not believe you, these results are so astonishing
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| Demons chasing me, I ran from Lucifer Leviathan
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| The beautiful and damned, I got a fetish for the finer things
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| That’s a quarter million on some tires that I’m driving in
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| Pull up the McLaren like that’s just some shit to travel in
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| Russell Westbrook triple-double averaging
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| Most improved player, they don’t know what the fuck is happenin'
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| The homies like «You're snappin'»
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| My mood’s Olympic champion throwin' a fuckin' javelin
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| Episode 3 Anakin
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| My favorite rapper’s Gerald, I’m a very big fan of him
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| You won’t get nowhere stalling and you standing like a mannequin
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| Why the fuck you panickin'? |
| I understand the task at hand
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| Let me work
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| What do you know about work?
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| Let me work
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| I’m talkin' about getting up five days a week, brushing ya teeth,
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| washing your ass, going into your office and working some old guy rich paid
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| hours
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| Let me roll up my sleeves and go to work
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| That’s a motherfucking job
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| It’s still that muthafuckin' time again
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| Blacking out, don’t give a fuck about a thing
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| Fuck the world that’s just the state of mind I’m in
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| That’s the place you find me in
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| Look, ain’t nobody live as him
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| Million dollar smile that I just went and put some diamonds in (yeah)
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| These rappers sneak diss when I came up, they prolly mad I’m on
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| But then they transformed and changed up like a Decepticon
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| Bunch of bootleg Geralds copying what I went platinum on
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| But the real, it’s me myself and I, you all be dead and gone
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| Disrespect me, don’t come to the bay, your pass is gone
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| My Obi-Wan is E-4−0, he givin' game, I pass it on
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| Study him 'cause he the one that lasted long
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| This beat I go assassin on
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| I just took some acid, hit the booth, and started rapping strong
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| Treat the studio like a decathlon
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| Never slowing down, I’m tryna put my whole damn family on
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| Work every night, I go 'til after dawn
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| To be the biggest thing in the world, I’m not the one to pass up on
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| Let me work
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| Look, you could be a fuckin' bank teller, you could be a waitress
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| Let me work
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| Or wash cars, sell clothes at a fucking boutique. |
| Alright listen,
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| you’re makin' somebody else rich. |
| You’re punching that clock. |
| You clock in,
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| you clock out, you making that money
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| Let me roll up my sleeves and go to work
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| How does that work?
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| A fucking hater’s always looking, tryna search for targets
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| If you don’t know me, don’t speak on me, stick to your departments
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| While they debate if I’m an urban artist
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| Or if I’m merging markets
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| All I really know, I’m just working hardest
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| And 'til the day I die, I’m hustlin', doing work regardless
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| I’m in my twenties, if I go I leave a perfect carcass
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| A polarizing artist
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| But you could love or hate me
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| But try and say I don’t pay my dues, fuck off, how dumb could they be
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| Nobody help to make me
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| I did it by my lonely
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| Who else did songs with everybody Britney Spears to Mozzy?
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| You New York Times aristocrats you should just relax
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| You miss the facts
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| Bitch, I’m from the Bay, was born to bridge the gaps
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| And I’m a legend in my city, they say «His shit slaps»
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| Said I’ma go and sell a million, I’ma get these plaques
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| And bring 'em back to inspire every kid who raps
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| I’m Michael Phelps, get out my lane, I’m swimming different laps
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| Yeah
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| Let me work
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| Let me roll up my sleeves and go to work |