| TUAMIE has developed a new hyperbolic time chamber
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| Here on Namek, we’ll be focusing on the mental
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| Training starts now, begin
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| Ooh, I’ve just been fanning myself, I’m a such a fan of myself
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| There’s levels to the cool like a fan on a shelf
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| When you blow, they try to gas you like fans at the Shell station
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| God hands me a full plate, but I handle it well
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| If they don’t feel your thoughts, start dreaming in braille
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| They’ll try to sell you short 'cause their dreams are for sale
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| They’ll say «Get off your podium, life isn’t Nickelodeon»
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| «Orange you so dumb?» |
| Kenan and Kel, wow
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| The government leaves an animal trail
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| So I switch to swiss chard, carrots, and kale
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| So I’ll remember my kid’s name, dementia is a sick game
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| I’m silencing the lamb, call me Hannibal Failed, yeah
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| Financial plans should be handled in stealth
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| I fight to lead a private life for my family’s health
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| Got some dinner with art collectors, they started drinkin' Prosecco
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| When they slipped about their level of family wealth
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| Bunch of actresses downplay how my records have felt
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| It’s not a mystery to decode a fan in yourself
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| «This man’s on fire,» I can’t pretend I’m not talented
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| For me to fake humble’s a corny way to be arrogant
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| Drug dealers still on the corner of Madison
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| Except they push Pradas and Red Bottoms to Madisons
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| Red bottoms for baboons and radishes
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| I went to Mozambique and saw a real kind of happiness
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| So I don’t feel guilty when Nike sends me some packages
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| We still end up in boxes even though we chase packagin', mm
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| Take this, take this, TUAMIE supply the face lift, uh
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| Take this, take this, TUAMIE supply the face lift
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| I can’t fall off, I got a great grip
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| Go and find some talent, have a great trip, uh
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| This Bellion guy’s power level is amazing
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| Uh, take this, take this, TUAMIE supply the face lift, mm
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| Prepare to fight
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| My stance here as a band leader is Pangaea
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| My heart frío, I’m cold, heater than Cambria
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| I rock steady, my Johnson’s Dwayne-heavy
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| We just erase heroes, I’ll Stan Lee ya, Remini, he the king of Queens
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| My bars breathe Lebron’s Kia, I carry greatness
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| Statements on spaceship, Haitians get LASIK
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| Meaning you dread what comes from my third eye
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| Blind to the fake shit (Wow)
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| My tone is gettin' aggressive
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| I just create for the truly gifted of adolescence
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| My essence becomes the mystery
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| I instantly become a Pistol Pete in a sport full of Walt Fraziers
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| My Kelsey Grammer is something like Thor with a hammer
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| Special-
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| Like Alfred Hitchcock with a camera
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| Beam-
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| Just Blaze and Killa Cam with a sample
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| Both hands on the candle, can’t handle it
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| Cannon!
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| My channel too hot to cancel, my baby’s drivin'
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| I’m Ansel
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| I’m passenger writin' stanzas, I’m holdin' these verses ransom
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| I’m Hansel Zoolander handsome
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| TUAMIE supply the face lift
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| It’s all because of (Jesus)
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| Well done, welcome to Glory Sound Prep
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| I’m lovin' it all, here with my brother-in-law
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| Greece is a beautiful place, food is incredible, awe
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| We just been playin' some games, everyone’s pickin' a straw
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| Who gets the longest has gotta go tell the butler to call
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| For more alcohol
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| Wait, we’d told the locals that we’d go and play basketball
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| But they don’t want the business
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| Plus, I drank from the flask we bought, now everything is spinnin'
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| Then we laugh it off
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| Ooh, it’s Whoopi Goldberg the way that my sisters act up, uh
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| They had some champagne, now everybody’s laughing
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| Movies 'bout paradise, and my family got the casting
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| If you dove into the tears of my eyes, you’d hear this instrumental
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| Jesus was instrumental in blessing my mental
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| Every time I drove a car, could’ve twisted the metal
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| Yeah, all the things on my wish list, God has given in triplets
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| I’m on an island where opiates go to rich kids
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| And then they pass away, that’s called death over the privileged
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| Yeah, I never wanna be famous, stop calling me underrated
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| I’m still pushin' the same whip I was drivin' in Sachem, uh
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| Peace in my life, I’m on some As-salamu alaykum
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| I’m makin' certain decisions, I’m flyin' under the radar
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| I really love my life and this music thing is a great job
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| Yeah, pick up the phone and someone tells me, «Mr. |
| Bellion, sir
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| Beyoncé on the line, she tryna reach you on your cellular»
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| She wanted «Fall In Line,» but we gave it to Aguilera, uhh
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| I hope it’s the right decision, Bey wanted it for the twins she signed
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| I hope I didn’t burn that bridge, I worry all the time
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| I’m just tryna show these kids about this slight of mine
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| I always flex, but I realize that it’s divine appointment
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| I’m a cross between hard work and Jesus-anointed
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| I hope the sinner that needed grace is the final notion
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| For the rest of my life, you’ll see me on the L-I-double R
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| With a Heineken in my bag, on my way to the Garden
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| Tryin' to kill your nephews like I been fuckin' with Scar
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| Me lyin' down on the job is Nala option at all, uh
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| On my way to the Garden, uh, uh
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| On my way to the, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
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| On my way to the Gar- |