| Son, you know why you the greatest alive?
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| Why, Dad?
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| Because you came out of my balls, nigga
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| Hahahahahaha
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| (Roof!)
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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, 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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| There's nowhere to hide, we call this shit genocide
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| Hit 'em with that (Do-do-do) and they die
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| 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
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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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| 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)
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| 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
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| Or you're trapped in your cell phone
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| Or my chicken scratch, or my self-loathe | 
| I don't want to fuckin' listen to you spit your raps someone else wrote
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| 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
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| 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'
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| Batterin' everything and I've had it with the inadequate
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| Man, I can see my dick is standin' stiff as a mannequin
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| And I'm bringin' the bandana back, and the fuckin' headband again
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| A handkerchief and I'm thinkin' of bringin' the fuckin' fingerless gloves back
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| And not giving a singular fuck, like fuck rap
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| 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
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| When I vent, they compare me to a fuckin' air duct
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| I'm about to bare-knuckle it, nah, fuck it
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| I'm gonna go upside their head with a Nantucket
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| Abraca-fuckin'-dabra
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| The track is the blood, I'm attracted, I'm attackin' it
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| What? | 
| Dracula, fuck that shit
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| I'm up, back with a thud
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| Man, stop
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| Look what I'm plannin', plannin', I'm plannin' to
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| Do all this while ya panickin'
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| And you're lookin' and starin' at mannequins
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| And I'm goin' to Fanagans
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| Trying to get up a plan against
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| All of the blana-kazana-ka-fam-bam-bannigans
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| While of all the bana-kazanika Hanna in a cabana
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| You're in a cab-
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| I'm in a cabana and a Janet
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| I'm in a cabana chantin' all this standup banter
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| While you don't got the stamina, you're lackin' the stamina
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| You're lackin' the stamina while you're divorcin' Harrison Ford
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| And I'm in a Porsche on the floorboards
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| While I'm world tourin'
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| You usin' way too many napkins, papkins
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| Lapkins and chapki-
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| You using ChapStick and napkins while I'm bapkin'
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| Flappin' around like a bapkin'
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| Flamminababbitapannitajampkin
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| Dammit, a can of pada- |