| Yes
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| I have two tickets to the NAACP Awards
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| The Image Awards
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| Secret Servicemen, you can sit down
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| My seats are in the front row, I hate to be so arrogant
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| But I am.
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| I have two tickets, Keith, and Esham
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| And also, backstage passes
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| For the afterparty, thank you
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| Black starship control, walk like I’m Darth Vader
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| My green limousine, purple Maury alligators
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| Glow in the dark Pele jacket
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| Shoes shine in your face accurate
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| Never seen a leather jacket with lights in the back of it
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| Custom made by the kids who sew and makes clothes for Prince and Sisqo
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| I’m 2004 beyond the average club music and disco
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| I take cities by storm
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| Drop deep like hills in San Francisco
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| Cookout with hoodrats and fried chicken and Crisco
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| After dinner, girls come over in lingerie
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| Bake sugar cookies and ginger snaps from Nabisco
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| Even nighttime, we bust a night rhyme
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| Ridin fluently into the mountains with briefcases countin
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| Millions and billions and zillions
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| And quintrillions, in mansions talkin to chameleons
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| Dark Vadar
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| Dark Vadar, watchin DVD’s with his new fader
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| And may the, force be witchu
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| Back on the scene with a pocket full of green
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| And I’m speedin like I’m caffeine
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| Intergalactic, super tactics, sultan with this rapping
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| Pull up, tinted out limousines, in Detroit I am never seen
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| Plus I keep a motherfuckin laser beam
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| To blow away your motherfuckin pale team
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| Crazy as this shit might seem
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| Livin in a nightmare, not a dream
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| All my life I been a microphone fiend
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| You want the title? |
| Step in the ring
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| You ain’t tryin to hear me, get your ear bit off
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| May the force be witchu when I turn your shit off
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| Star Wars, me and Keith in the bar with scores of whores
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| And the tours for whores
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| Pimps push Cadillacs
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| Gorilla macks swingin the battle-axe
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| Since I was sippin Similak
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| But I wanna be breastfed by Princess Leia, playa
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| Me and Keith new millenium rhyme sayers
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| Too futuristic, for you to miss this shit
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| And if you do, may the force be witchu |