| This is the best, the best spot in the house?
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| Absolutely
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| Check it
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| Check it, yo, check it
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| I’ve had niggas that come up to me, say that they looked up to me, yeah
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| And that they been fuckin' with me since shit was ugly, yeah
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| And that these songs, man, they saved they life
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| Now, how you put that kind of power in these hands of mine?
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| And how a nigga 'posed respond to some shit like that?
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| Am I supposed to «Oh, thanks,» pat they back?
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| I ain’t tryna take away from the experience they had
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| But, honestly, I’m not prepared for some shit like that
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| And when they credit myself, they discredit themselves
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| And the strength that they had, yeah, to better themselves
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| And they talk about the strength that I have in my songs
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| But they don’t know, behind them stories, there’s some shit that’s just wrong
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| And I hear 'em say that it was beautiful
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| But to me, man, that shit was inexcusable, uh
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| To talk about a death and not go to the funeral
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| Tellin' myself, «You gotta swallow all that guilt that chewed at you»
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| Shit was juvenile, like how was I too cowardly to go to your fuckin' funeral
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| But still feel like rappin' about your death was fuckin' suitable?
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| Was I true to you, or usin' you?
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| Or the unfortunate events to make my songs more moveable
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| My grief provable?
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| It’s true though, I do wish I could call like shit was usual
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| Tell you shit’s poppin', uh, tell you life’s beautiful, uh
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| But I didn’t check on you when you were still here, yeah
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| And that shit been eatin' at me for this past year, yeah
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| This remind me of Will dancin' on that couch
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| 2014 Flagstaff, we’re back now
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| Halloween a year later and we’re drivin' home
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| I’ll throw up eight times before we make it out
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| Still reminds me of Will dancin' on that couch
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| Saw him last week, he swears that we made it now
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| People watchin' now, better not let them down
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| I’ll throw up eight times before we make it now
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| (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| Shout out to my brother Chuck, healthiest dude I know
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| One day, he was hoopin' and just dropped to the floor
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| In disbelief, man, I could never fathom that
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| His sister Rosie hit me like, «It might’ve been a heart attack»
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| Couldn’t do shit about it, stuck in Arizona
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| Plus they brought him back, but I heard he’s in a coma
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| Drop to my knees and I start to pray
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| Said, «If he wakes up, I swear that I’ll call and text him every day»
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| Felt like a lifetime after a couple days went past
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| And I still ain’t heard from your ass, man, wake the fuck up
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| Yo, luckily he did, my promise didn’t last that long
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| You would text me, it would take like a week to respond
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| And I ain’t got shit goin' on
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| Man, that’s so fucked up
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| Two years later, seen your silhouette in that crowd
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| Last show, our first headlinin' tour, it’s sold out
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| 700 people, yeah, that shit was so wild
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| Seen that ugly-ass grin, knew I made you proud, yeah
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| This remind me of Will dancin' on that couch |