| Little boy, you ain’t a thug, you ain’t a killer
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| You ain’t no top boy, you ain’t no drug dealer
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| Once they step in the booth, they act like they’re from the streets
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| I’m sick of all these flops fuckin' lying through their teeth
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| Motherfucker, tell the truth
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| You don’t let that shit bang
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| You ain’t been part of a gang
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| Lil' cunnah, tell the truth
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| Yeah, tell the truth
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| Yeah, I’m sick of hearing this music where they be talking big (Uh huh)
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| I remember these moepi’s when they were little kids (Okay)
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| And now they’re grown and rap about how they grip the stick
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| And how they’re in the trap, with the gang, fuckin' flipping bricks (The fuck?)
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| I’m getting sick of it, now listen, kid
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| It’s really not that hard
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| Just cut the act uce, I know you’re really not that hard
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| While you rap about being a gangsta and shit, I know some real OGs that’s
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| locked up in the yard
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| It’s not a facade where I’m from (Nah)
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| My usos know that that’s not the shit that I’m on (Yeah, they know)
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| I’m tryna speak of the truth, and what I know from my days as a youth |
| But these dickheads have got their minds wrong (Ay)
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| You hold your uncle’s gun and talk about you got them strap
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| You sell a bit of weed and rap about you in the trap (Swear)
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| Somebody draw a yellow line, 'cause the way that they be lying about their lives
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| Gotta keep 'em off these fuckin' tracks
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| Little boy, you ain’t a thug, you ain’t a killer
|
| You ain’t no top boy, you ain’t no drug dealer
|
| Once they step in the booth, they act like they’re from the streets
|
| I’m sick of all these flops fuckin' lying through their teeth
|
| Motherfucker, tell the truth
|
| You don’t let that shit bang
|
| You ain’t been part of a gang
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| Lil' cunnah, tell the truth
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| Yeah, tell the truth
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| Now everybody’s selling drugs
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| Why they all tryna lie? |
| (Why?)
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| They saying that they’ll be quick to pull the strap out like a dyke (What?)
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| But when it comes to the crunch, these bitches all run and hide
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| I’m telling you that these pussies only spitting for the hype (True)
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| But all these people listen and they’re gassed like, «This man is insane» |
| I be thinking to myself, «Why's he rapping this way?»
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| See back in the day, he wasn’t ever acting this way
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| The only time he’s gripping sticks is when he’s jamming the game
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| A bunch of frauds, pussies better watch their tone
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| Acting like they’re from the streets, but they’re from good homes
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| They tryna blend in, I’m tryna stand out (Facts)
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| They never had arms (Nah), only got handouts (True)
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| So why they talking big? |
| A bunch of idiots
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| These pussies make me sick, like it’s chlamydia
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| I’m fucking up the game when I rap, spitting nothing but facts
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| Disqualify these fake cunts before they run on a track, bitch
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| Little boy, you ain’t a thug, you ain’t a killer
|
| You ain’t no top boy, you ain’t no drug dealer
|
| Once they step in the booth, they act like they’re from the streets
|
| I’m sick of all these flops fuckin' lying through their teeth
|
| Motherfucker, tell the truth
|
| You don’t let that shit bang
|
| You ain’t been part of a gang
|
| Lil' cunnah, tell the truth
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| Yeah, tell the truth |