| Believe it or not like Ripley’s
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| Boys on road still wanna chiv me
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| I don’t care though, dance with me
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| We’re dancing, see
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| And I make this music simply
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| People get vexed 'cause they’re too complex
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| Put their track on the decks and
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| No-no-no people stay seated
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| Main objective is defeated
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| You played in the same club we did
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| When we played, they stampeded
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| Objective completed
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| 'Cause we get the dance all heated
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| I’ve done four mixtapes, look me in the face
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| And tell me that I have cheated
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| Yo, after my performance
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| Everybody comes round in a swarm and
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| They’re all patting me down like they’re doormen
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| Congratulating and applauding
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| Bare questions like I’m an informant
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| And I’m trying not to come across boring
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| They are all up in the mix 'cause they think that I’m rich
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| And MC for the P but-
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| Nope-nope-nope's for the love of the music
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| These ain’t diamonds, they’re cubics
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| I love the music biz to bits
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| And I figured it out like my Rubik’s
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| Trust me, it’s simple to do this
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| On your album, you need two hits
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| They’re marketing tools for artists to use
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| And that’s the way you will sell units
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| I’m Jme, mic controller
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| I no longer walk with a folder
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| I graduated, I got my education
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| And I’m prepared for my life when I’m older
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| Can you smell that odour?
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| That’s the stinking lyrics that I’ll show ya
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| I don’t care if you’ve got a revolver
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| Have I got a strap?
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| Nope-nope-nope, trust me, I’m not a gun holder
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| I just roll with the big boy soldier
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| If you’ve got a little beef so you’ve got a little heat
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| You need to get that dirt off your shoulder
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| 'Cause it gets colder
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| Living the life of a clip loader
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| Trust me, bruv, don’t let your life
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| End up HypeTing dot com slash over |