| Teacher Teacher, you can’t make me stay;
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| I know I came to class without a pass and I’m late so i’ll be tardy
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| For coming to first period havin' a party
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| I’m talking to stunts filling my (???) of bacardi
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| I’m really, really sorry Mr. Harrari, your lectures bore me
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| I interrupt you when you tell a story
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| I raise my hand, to make you stand up and you ignore me
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| Open up your eyes and please realize your lessons phoney
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| My parents always said don’t let the teachers put you down
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| Or walk around school grounds labeled as a class clown
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| Class Clown?
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| Class Clown!
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| Class Clown?
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| Class Clown!
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| In my class, I did everything but pass
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| I do my ACT’s but good at making people laugh
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| Telling jokes, sleeping, or maybe I wrote the raps
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| I put signs on backs and threw off dunce caps
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| Never took notes and from the board I never copied
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| Wrote on desks to make the room look so sloppy
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| Crumbled up papers; |
| I’m up to no good, and when the teacher turned her back,
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| I took aim like Robin Hood
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| Ha-ha-ha, made you look, she got mad
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| Try and threaten me and say that she would call my dad
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| But to me that was a joke, my teachers getting shook
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| As soon as I get home I leave my phones off the hook
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| My phone’s off the hook, I’m writing in my book
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| And that girl with the killa, killa booty made me look at her dress
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| And I’m always in a mess of trouble, sent to the office every day on the double
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| Got my red nose and my extra big clothes and I’m down, to be the biggest class
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| clown
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| Class clown?
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| Class clown!
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| I hate school with a passion; |
| garbage cans, hallways I be smashin'
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| Bashin'; |
| I’m thrashin, I’m cutting classes
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| I got a lot of dips who write me fake passes
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| Me be a rapper? |
| All I get is laughter from some coffee-breath teacher as they
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| try to come after…
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| Me, because you see, all I do is wrong
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| Could it be, could it be, could it be that I’m Rashaan?
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| Kicked out of the class, well I consider myself lucky
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| Oops! |
| I made a mistake, I’m better known as the Bucwheed, so duck me
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| Cause I ain’t makin' no idle threats
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| After I beat my teacher, I’m smackin' all her pets
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| Shhh! |
| You shouldn’t be concerned with it
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| I leave an apple with a worm in it
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| A class clown and that’s permanent…
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| Every class I’m in, there’s always teachers on my back
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| Tellin' me read my notes and do my work, they tell me how to act
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| They thinkin' I’m bad, they make me mad with all the rules they makin'
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| But I don’t listen, keep on dissin' cause it all sounds fake
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| I look at girls I’m makin' plans out to release my semen
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| My head’s on desk, I’m getting rest, don’t wake me while I’m dreamin'
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| While I’m at school, I play the fool till I’m a ringleader
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| My (???) never caught, but labeled as a cheater
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| I face the wall, my name get called out each and every minute
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| And if shit hit’s the fan you know that I’ll be in it;
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| Oh man, oh man, oh please don’t let this bitch call my father
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| But I don’t sweat it, just forget it, yo I don’t bother
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| And if I fail, my pops he’ll nail me underneath the ground
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| But I guess that’s the price I have to pay to be the class clown |