| We walking around handing out free cd’s to tearing it down on Skee TV
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| You see whenever Webby’s bringing a track, it’s been cooked up by the best
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| Shit i’m the fucking Jesse Pinkman of rap
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| I get these verses written quickly as your fingers will snap and stay faded
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| Slurrin' words, spillin' drink’s on my lap
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| I keep my weed in glass jars, spittin' mad bars
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| High on trees like the lemurs down in madagascar
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| I’m a fucking rap star so don’t try to act hard
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| You’ll get murdered on the mic and buried in my backyard
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| So chi-chi get the yayo im trying to throw a party
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| Cuz i seen these bitches walking around Cali lookin' like barbies
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| I’m trying to fuck em' all so sorry i’m not sorry
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| I’m on board, you watching the ride you damn carnies
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| You know sick as folk every single fucking word is dope
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| Steppin out my chevy surrounded by all this purple smoke
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| Banging older women, got these cougars gettin' down b
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| For real how the fuck you think your mother heard about me
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| Yo this shit is what the fuck I do, you can run and tell DJ Skee
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| While he’s tearing shit down on the 1's and 2's
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| Bring the fire everywhere we be
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| Cuz i’m a god damn monster and they know my name from L. A all the way back east
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| So get used to my face cuz i know one thing, your all about to see a lot of me
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| Yeah, mother fucker i’ve been doin this shit man y’all just catching up
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| Shout to Skee TV, Hip-Hop Nation
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| Wud up |