| Fuck rap
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| Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
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| Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
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| Hold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
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| Leave a suicide note, fuck that
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| Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
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| I’m comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
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| I’m feelin' like I’m, chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady with rabies
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| I’m foamin' at the mouth, ain’t nobody takin' me out
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| Every single rapper in the industry, yeah, they know what I’m about
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| And I dare you to test me
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| 'Cause not a single one of you motherfuckers impress me
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| And maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration
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| But I’m full of innovation
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| And I’m tired of all of this high school «He's cool, he’s not» rap shit
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| Can a single one of you motherfuckers even rap? |
| shit
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| No, this ain’t a diss to the game, this a gas to the flame
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| Nowadays, everybody sound the same, shit’s lame
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| Like a moth to the flame, I’ma reel 'em in and kill 'em
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| Know you feelin' lyricism when I’m spillin' it, I’m feelin' myself
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| Yeah, yeah, Bobby Boy, he be feelin' himself
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| Mass murder like this can’t be good for my health
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| When I rap like this, do I sound like shit?
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| Well, it don’t really matter, 'cause I’m killin' this shit
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| Yeah, I’m killin' this shit
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| Oh yeah, oh yeah, I’m killin' this shit
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| Bobby, how many times you been killin' this shit?
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| Find another rhyme, goddamn, nigga, shit
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| Fuck rap
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| Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
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| Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
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| Hold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
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| Leave a suicide note, fuck that
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| Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
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| I’m comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
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| I’m feelin' like I’m, chika-chika-chika-chika
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| Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady
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| All of y’all wishy and washy
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| All y’all my kids in a car seat
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| I take my dime to hibachi, we do 69 like Tekashi
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| Lyin' in the sand, too much time in your hands, I think I need to find you a
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| hobby
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| God got a plan, hope that God hold your hand, I think I’m 'bout to catch me a
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| body!
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| Tell all my teachers that I said I’m back on my G shit and I’m coming back to
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| get even
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| I went on tour and got paid, now I’m back in the region, I let off this mac for
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| no reason
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| You are now witnessing greatness, I’m practically preaching and this is the
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| passion of Jesus
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| And all you basic motherfuckas are lacking achievement, and I’ve just been
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| laughing and geekin'
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| Back to business, I got mad intentions, I ain’t perfect, I made some bad
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| decisions
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| But it’s competition, I’m a savage winning
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| You can have the digits, I’m a mathematician
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| I don’t see you niggas, I’ve been lacking vision
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| You’ve been acting different, I’ve been acting distant
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| I’ma do some shit to bring me mad attention
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| You gon' do some shit that send me back to prison, whoa!
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| This is uncomfortable, you just keep putting your feet in a fire
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| I think my gun got a crush on you, boy, you 'bout to meet your secret admirer
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| How you do shit you don’t wanna do? |
| I do that shit just to keep me inspired
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| I used to hit it and leave when I wanted to, now I hit it and be sleepin'
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| inside her, woo
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| Roll up on 'em when I pull up on 'em, put that motherfucking smoke up on 'em
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| with that holy water
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| Joyner Lucas, I’m a holy mona leader motor runnin'
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| Man, too many niggas know about it, but I thought about it
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| Prayed about it to the Lord about it in the morning, but I gotta show 'em what
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| it’s all about and I’ma call 'em out
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| I ain’t that nigga you could talk about, you better calm it down
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| Don’t be tryna give me the run around, I’ll shut 'em down god damn
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| Fuck rap
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| Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
|
| Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
|
| Hold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
|
| Leave a suicide note, fuck that
|
| Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
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| I’m comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
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| I’m feelin' like I’m, chika-chika-chika-chika
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| Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady
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| There’s nowhere to hide, we call this shit genocide
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| Hit 'em with that (Do-do-do) and they die |
| We gon' leave 'em crucified, we call this shit genocide
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| I got bitches, I got hoes, I got rare designer clothes
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| No, we ain’t fuckin' with that
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| Yeah, there’s a time and a place
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| But if you ain’t comin' with the illest of raps
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| Callin' yourself the greatest alive
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| Then you don’t deserve to do that
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| No, no, oh no, no, please do not do that
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| You gon' get smacked
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| You gon' make Bobby attack
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| You gon' make Bobby Boy snap
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| You gon' make Bobby Boy snap (Bobby Boy!)
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| Fuck rap
|
| Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
|
| Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
|
| Hold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
|
| Leave a suicide note, fuck that
|
| Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
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| I’m comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
|
| I’m feelin' like I’m, chika-chika-chika-chika
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| Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady
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| Yeah, what it look like?
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| Little too much sauce, get it cooked right
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| I’m the same mothafucka, been the same mothafucka
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| With the mothafuckin' fame like Suge Knight, shit
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| Gotta make time
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| And it really ain’t shit if it ain’t mine
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| I’m a beast, I’m a dog, I’m a canine
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| See the way I make her go down like a bassline (yeah)
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| Back when I was just a youngin', didn’t have any nothin'
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| Always up to somethin', started gettin' money
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| Now I’m off and runnin', way too wild to function, call it comin' up
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| And yeah I’m on the escalator, they be starin' at me
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| They the spectators and I’m player magic
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| I’m a ex-Laker, I’m a messmaker
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| I don’t stress paper, I don’t care who has it
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| Fuck rap
|
| Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
|
| Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
|
| Hold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
|
| Leave a suicide note, fuck that
|
| Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
|
| I’m comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
|
| I’m feelin' like I’m, chika-chika-chika-chika
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| Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady
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| Nigga do that shit, nigga done that shit
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| Nigga any problem bet I overcome that shit
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| Twenty gold bottles I’m a drink on that shit
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| Twenty songs that I’m on number one that shit
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| My name gon' ring and my team gon' win
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| I shot a nigga once and I’d do that shit again
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| Put your hands on a Bible stealing candy at a store
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| To a black homicidal it’s the same damn sin
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| Drop down, give me three points ho
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| K. Dot, give it to it how you want ho
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| I’m a show you what this West side about
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| I’m a pull up in a 'Rari at your grandmama’s house, hey now
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| She got a nigga name in her mouth, hey now
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| T-O to M-O to ammo, I mean
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| My MO is zero, see commas, I promise
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| Now go tell your mama this dick ain’t for free
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| This dick ain’t, this dick ain’t
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| This dick ain’t, this dick ain’t
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| This dick ain’t for free
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| Touch that, I need cash back, transaction
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| I bust back in a all black Grand National
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| Hoodrats in the project if you ask 'em
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| They wanna buy the world, 10 racks on they taxes
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| Holiday cheers, tell 'em get checks with a bottle to the neck
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| Nigga get it how you live
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| Fuck rap
|
| Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic
|
| Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back
|
| Hold up, catch a vibe, ain’t no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive
|
| Leave a suicide note, fuck that
|
| Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this
|
| I’m comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby
|
| I’m feelin' like I’m, chika-chika-chika-chika
|
| Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady
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| Jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga like JAY-Z
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| Jig is up, you fuckers who didn’t write anything
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| Are getting washed, liga-liga-liga, like bathing
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| Young Hova, I know hitters like Yankees
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| Gun toters that pull triggers like crazy
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| Unloadin', leave you shot up in your Rover
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| Your body goes limp and slumps over
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| Like A-Rod in a month lull, but he just homered
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| Hol' up, I said «Rover» because now your Rover is red
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| Like Red Rover, so you know what I meant
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| But I roll over my opponents instead
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| Makin' dog sounds 'cause I gotta keep breakin' these bars down
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| I’ll go slow for the speds
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| But when I go (Roof!) like the Dobermann said
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| I still think the (Roof!) would go over your head (Ha-ha) |
| Beast mode, motherfuckers 'bout to get hit
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| With so many foul lines, you’ll think I’m a free throw
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| Figured it was about time for people to eat crow
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| You about to get out-rhymed, how could I be dethroned?
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| I stay on my toes like the repo, a behemoth in sheep’s clothes
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| From the East Coast to the West, I’m the ethos and I’m the G.O.A.T
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| Who the best, I don’t gotta say a fuckin' thing, though
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| 'Cause MCs know
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| But you don’t wanna hear me spit the facts
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| Your shit is ass like a tailbone
|
| Or you’re trapped in your cell phone
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| Or my chicken scratch, or my self-loathe
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| I don’t wanna fuckin' listen to you spit your raps someone else wrote
|
| Used to get beat up by the big kids
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| Used to let the big kids steal my big wheel
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| And I wouldn’t do shit but just sit still
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| Now money’s not a big deal
|
| I’m rich, I wipe my ass with six mill'
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| Big bills like a platypus
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| A caterpillar’s comin' to get the cannabis
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| I’m lookin' for the smoke but you motherfuckers are scatterin'
|
| Batterin' everything and I’ve had it with the inadequate
|
| Man, I can see my dick is standin' stiff as a mannequin
|
| And I’m bringin' the bandana back, and the fuckin' headband again
|
| A handkerchief and I’m thinkin' of bringin' the fuckin' fingerless gloves back
|
| And not giving a singular fuck, like fuck rap
|
| I sound like a fuckin' millionaire
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| With a Derringer with a hair trigger
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| 'Bout to bear hug a fuckin' terrier, the Ric Flair dripper
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| Y’all couldn’t hold a candle at a prayer vigil
|
| When I vent, they compare me to a fuckin' air duct
|
| I’m 'bout to bare-knuckle it, nah, fuck it
|
| I’m gonna go upside their head with a Nantucket
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| Abraca-fuckin'-dabra
|
| The track is the blood, I’m attracted, I’m attackin' it
|
| What? |
| Dracula, fuck that shit
|
| I’m up, back with a thud
|
| Man, stop |