| Mama should’ve locked me in an institution for inducin' such a sick conclusion
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| I stick and move and hit the roof when I get to groovin'
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| Big improvement with the moves and now I got these bitches choosin'
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| Kids consume and listen to my tunes, they system boomin'
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| Simply human, did some shrooms, got me feeling lucid
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| You still look stupid if you hating on the illest doin' this
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| Skilled to prove it, feel the fluid, when I’m spittin' to it
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| I feel like '97 Em
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| Right around the time that Dre discovered him
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| I’m grimy with the pen, a lion in his den
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| I’m a giant amongst men, start a riot from within
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| Bitch, I’m monstrous, internal conflict is the consequence
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| Of constant clouded consciousness that clogged up all my common sense
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| No common 'plex, my confidence ain’t cockiness
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| My awesomeness is obvious, I stand out in an audience
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| So tell the crowd make a cloud while I break it down
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| Ain’t the sidekick, meanwhile, videos gon' make me viral
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| A great empire I aspire to create in time
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| Working with creative minds, mimes imitate our lines
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| Okay, dilated pupils in the heart of the lion’s den
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| Playing my violin, out here slaying leviathans
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| Mask on my face and that ain’t for hidin' in
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| We just come to cop both the keys to the car you ridin' in
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| I snatch your girl too, she wetter than what Poseidon in
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| She love my shit, that’s 'cause there ain’t a verse that I’m lyin' in
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| Some rappers overindulge in they lyrics, lost in appearance
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| What they bring in wit, they lack in spirit
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| At your concert, filled in the blanks to your punchlines
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| Like a crossword, they was predictable as these bitches
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| When we converse, I slap a hoe with the mossberg
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| Cough syrup, slowing me down like it’s Mr. Officer
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| Intellect prevail when the skeptics sail
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| Your respect is frail, when your homies say that they collectin' bail
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| But you sitting there rottin', we been picking cotton
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| Slaving for the dollar signs like freedom ain’t a option, yeah
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| So tell the crowd make a cloud while I break it down
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| Ain’t the sidekick, meanwhile, videos gon' make me viral
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| A great empire I aspire to create in time
|
| Working with creative minds, mimes imitate our lines
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| 83 at the embassy
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| Bomb in my backpack, I’m hunting for the enemy
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| Level headed, I’m level at everything ahead of me
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| Especially gon' show these mafuckers not to mess with me
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| Mentally, this shit could take a toll on you, drugs got a hold on you
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| Friends ain’t loyal, switch up and fold on you
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| Bold move, you chicken like soul food
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| I’m gettin' and stickin' and movin', bitches choosin', want me to roll through
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| A cold brew with doobies usually what I hold
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| Truth be told, this music shit has me, something like a mold to me
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| I fit like play-doh, Socrates is my old head
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| And my philosophy is obviously getting old bread
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| Stacking that mold, I’m back in that mode
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| Give me an instrumental, I feel like I’m cooking crack on that stove
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| Notepad is my crack sack, keep it in my backpack
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| Next to the scale, weed mail, flipping it like a flapjack
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| So tell the crowd make a cloud while I break it down
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| Ain’t the sidekick, meanwhile, videos gon' make me viral
|
| A great empire I aspire to create in time
|
| Working with creative minds, mimes imitate our lines |