| This next verse, these bars
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| Yeah, uh
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| I just realized that I’m a rich nigga
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| My momma and poppa never made six figures
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| By 2019, I’ll be at seven figures
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| This my moment of clarity, let me tell it jigga
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| I gave up liquor, I gave up smoking
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| Knowing that the green from being sober is way more potent
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| Now people poking noses in my business
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| Pinocchio and they lying, trying hard to figure out
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| Which ho I’m strokin' to use their lotion
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| I don’t fuck bitches, I got a wife now
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| Young nigga, grown rich nigga lifestyle
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| I could line every rapper up right now
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| And fade 'em with the bars to make every one of 'em lie down
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| Sleep, Poké Flute couldn’t wake 'em up
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| Poke a stick at they body
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| Now po-po about to bring the cuts
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| Oh no, I’m 'bout to do a bid
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| Oh shit, they 'bout to free the kid
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| Killin' bad rappers is legal across the nation, bitch
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| Die, die, die, die, die
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| And I say it with passion
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| Half these people talkin' shit don’t say shit
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| When you leave the Internet
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| And you just happen to see 'em in passin'
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| It’s just harder to see them outside of the actin'
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| It’s more harder to see them outside of the laughin'
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| When they only with they friends and sayin' that your album trash
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| When right before they looked you in your face
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| And told you you were snappin'
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| They the ones that stab your back in when they catch you lackin'
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| They the ones that shouldn’t have been in the womb instead of nappin'
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| Capitalizin' off of these niggas lackin', what the fuck happened?
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| Niggas turned to kingpins, Twitter fingers they get to tappin'
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| Must’ve pushed the key under the tab, all your words is cappin'
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| Bitch, I am the captain
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| Bitch, I am the chief
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| Bitch, I am the priest when I wake
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| Bitch, you are deceased
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| Bitch, you are control, alt, delete
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| Bitch, be gone for me
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| Bitch, you need to think before you speak
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| Bitch, you came to someone’s
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| Bitch, you panic knowing I don’t need no XL stamp to excel
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| I just got 20 bands and transportation in a XL
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| To make them throw their hands up and scream my lyrics
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| Meanwhile, people talkin'
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| Got me askin' «Where you at?"without a Nextel
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| No, for real, where you at? |
| The internet still?
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| No, for real, where you at? |
| Your mama crib still?
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| No for real, where you at?
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| My comment section usin' cracked iPhone 5Ss to hate my blessin’s
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| Wildin', click your page
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| All I see is, «This profile page is private»
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| With a profile picture of Michael Jordan’s face cryin'
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| Probably 'cause I’m ballin' like I’m Lebron and you retired
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| While a nigga still chasin' them rings like Blac Chyna
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| No major labels, keepin' up with niggas on major labels
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| When I sign, the label’s keepin' up with me, you won’t be able
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| Eatin' at my table, you ain’t cool enough and that’s the lingo
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| Now I put the classmates that used to laugh up on my payroll
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| Ho, I think I’m better than Cole, better than Dot
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| Fuck a tweet, bitch I’m just as good as Biggie and Pac
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| R.I.P., this my Kodak, Lil Xan, and Yachty talk
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| Akademiks cover him, Adam 22 with the shots
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| Y’all ain’t got No Jumpers
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| Double entendre, double entendre
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| You ain’t catch it? |
| Well, that’s your problem
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| This ain’t no dissin', this ain’t no hate
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| But keep it real, this is the Freshmen I didn’t make?
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| In other words, all of you rappers is just steak
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| When you fallin' off the bone of them charts, I’m eatin' your plate
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| You can’t put me in a class when I’m busy teachin' 'em lessons
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| So next year, don’t even hit me to be a Freshmen
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| I’m gon' fuck it up
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| Too many bodies, too many stretchers
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| Better buckle up
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| Too much gas and I’m in a Tesla
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| Test the 'Rosa in my future, they sleepin'
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| I got the rooster, they seated
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| I got the booster, I’m seein' over these losers
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| Please book me, Lollapalooza
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| I’m blowin', it’s like a tuba
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| I’d blow his head with a Ruger if he hot and can’t cool up
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| I’m blowin' like I’m a cougar’s jaws, who’s involved?
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| Whose acoustics make it sound like he’s infused with Nas
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| Mixed with Gucci, cross him without a cross light
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| And you gon' see the cross roads twice
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| Rest in Peace Phife
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| You gon' see life, pass before you better be nice
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| 'Cause I will body everybody
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| If I see sight of a nigga that don’t even blink right
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| Shoutout YBN Cordae, IDK is my name
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| Hi, this Trippie verse, bye |