| Yo, white eyes, black tee
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| Ill rhymes, that’s me
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| Hollywood’s now labeled as lame
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| But I’ve been on that raw shit since I came in the game
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| Fuck this! |
| Rap niggas trying act like they punk rock
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| Tight jeans, Mohawks screaming «fuck cops»
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| Y’all should get your fucking nuts chopped
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| You all look like you suck cock
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| Bust shots if you hate me
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| Yup that’ll fix the problem
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| Put me out there, leave it up to Mr. Goblin
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| To contribute to all the bullshit that’s dropping
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| So he can take his kids out Christmas shopping
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| Look at the niggas I’m spinning circles around
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| My verbal profound lyrics make them hurdle the town
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| They washed up 'til they gurgle and drown
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| Their whole dynasty I’m burning it down
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| Funk Volume, you’ve heard of it now
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| I kick the bitches out
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| And let the girls in
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| Your baby daddy shouts
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| You stole my girlfriend
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| You see I’m on the prowl
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| I make the world spin, round
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| Welcome to the pain in my life
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| Yeah baby
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| Suicide, (huh?) trust I might
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| Tell 'em what my motto is fuck my life
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| Don’t need alcohol to upper-cut my wife
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| So much rage I could crush my mic
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| See I woke up on the wrong side of the bed
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| My brain works but the whole left side of it is dead
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| There’s a little small gremlin inside of my head
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| And lately I’ve been feeling like I’m living life on the edge
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| But wait a minute, this ain’t a gimmick, I can’t pretend it
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| I’ma scream it loud to the world just in case they forget it
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| Be careful of some of the knowledge that you take from critics
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| They tryin' to execute a nigga but I stay committed
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| New topic, mind over matter
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| Never needed my arms to climb up a ladder
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| You wack niggas don’t ever show signs of a rapper
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| It’s getting too serious for you? |
| Why, what’s the matter yo?
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| I kick the bitches out
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| And let the girls in
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| Your baby daddy shouts
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| You stole my girlfriend
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| You see I’m on the prowl
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| I make the world spin, round
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| Welcome to the pain in my life
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| Yeah baby
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| Yeah, the black man’s back
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| There is no topic my raps can’t smash
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| The state of hip hop that can’t pass
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| It’s all full of shit like a fat man’s ass (eww)
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| May I please have just enough trust
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| In you motherfuckers to leave the rust of us stuck
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| I turn my head and now you’re messing stuff up
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| All that «You! |
| Turn it up!» |
| Just shut the fuck up
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| (Damn) I’m rude and I’m so wicked
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| I’ll make sure you never blow up
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| Like a balloon with a hole in it
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| I knock hustlers for a living, got muscles for the women
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| Got puzzles for the children, blaow
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| Plus I got a sick delivery, that’ll have you niggas shivering
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| And stunned from bombs I drop lyrically
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| You can’t touch my shit
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| So I’ma end it just like this
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| Suck my dick!
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| I kick the bitches out
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| And let the girls in
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| Your baby daddy shouts
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| You stole my girlfriend
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| You see I’m on the prowl
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| I make the world spin, round
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| Welcome to the pain in my life
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| Yeah baby |