| Yeah, yeah, yo
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| Eat, Pray, Thug
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| Yo, yo, Himanshu
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| Bitch, I’m back, Heemi-Heemi
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| And them women think I’m dreamy
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| And them fellas wanna be me
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| But neither of 'em can see me
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| I’m in my head, I’m dreaming for that next lit
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| I’m screaming for that next check
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| I’m screaming and ya best bet some leaning
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| Hubba, hubba, Heema, Abner Louima
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| Amadou Diallo, I’m a new diablo
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| This molly está bueno, not bad meaning bad
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| Yeah, I’m talking about that ash
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| La pépé, spin another hash spliff
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| Eat, Pray, Thug, it’s like hat-trick, hat-trick
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| It’s madness
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| They calling him an addict, it’s tragic
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| I’m the fucking man, now I don’t have it
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| Dog food (Woof woof), I’m of another pedigree
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| Them critics just won’t let me be
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| And I done lost the energy
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| Educate and set them free
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| They’ve never been a friend to me
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| Frenemy, ahead of me
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| It’s plain to see, take planes to see
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| I go and see the
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| Poetry, flow-etry, the beat like water
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| When I’m in the sea, it flow with me
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| Young gualawala, young cocoa butter
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| Tat her name across the brain, word to Veena that’s my mother
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| Heemy is that man, he follow through with plans
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| He roll on up with vans, he follow up with fans
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| He swallow up the jams, they follow when he land
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| Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn
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| Bitch, I’m back, pack the blat
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| Couldn’t flip, no acrobat
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| Yeah, monkeys can sell bananas
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| J-J-Jack, that’s a fact
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| So, I’m like «Where the party at?»
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| And can I bring my gat?
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| Where the party at?
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| And can I bring my gat?
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| The great gats be that TEC-9 and that AK
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| Cut rounds of that yayay
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| On that big book from AA
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| Goddamn, I’m bent like elbows, no I’m not worried
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| Cause when I step up in the party like «Himanshu Suri!"(x4) |