| While I’m burning my left eye
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| Screaming from the weed smoke
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| Shirley out in Bedstuy, she be saying «He's dope!»
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| Veronica the photographer from Santa Monica
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| Said I killed at Rock the Bells
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| That’s why I got Julie high
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| But she said we was better at the Ruby Skye
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| Who am I to deny that she roll with Gestapo
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| Down in Boulder, Colorado at the Fox we rock shows
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| Ask Miranda and Tiffany
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| The last show at Epiphany’s we rip MCs
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| Rock shit I’mma keep it real, though
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| When I’m in the Bay, man I get it at the Fillmore
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| Got Jill so faded she damn near faded in the backspace blazing
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| Whiling, met Caroline Fall at a ball reminiscing about the Maritime Hall
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| At all
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| We did it right
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| Same shit, different night
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| Speaking softly, passing the Bic
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| Stick a light between us
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| Sipping caipirinhas
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| With Hifey Genia
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| For the sess we shock out at the sesqui, rock it
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| Big up to Roxxy and the dames at the Dame
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| And my boo name, Ciless, we met at Foo Fooday
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| Electric before riding down to the higher ground
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| The La-la eyes don’t lie, she the highest now
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| It’s the prince of the first dance
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| Twin City style with my Hiero committee bitties at the velvety lounge
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| Paton rules, had to move, at the Spanish room
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| And her June had an attitude 'til I hit lap two
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| So I must be eloquent
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| Cause it means lights out for busty Melanie from her rusty pelican
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| Belly Up, gasping in Aspen with Jasmine
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| Holding my fashion for flashing that classic shit |