| I was the guy you once knew as a jerk
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| Who made records on the side, now I do it as work
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| So you BET that I take pride in pushin' you in the dirt
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| You would too, if you knew what it’s worth
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| Uhh! |
| I’m a businessman in the truest sense (Yeah)
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| Cause every time my song’s too intense, and cause you offense
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| I record a few cents in my bank book (Uh-huh)
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| So I can afford a few gents starin' at me with blank looks (Oww!)
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| You don’t like that I sang hooks, and think I ought to be spittin'
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| Like I don’t carry on the tradition?
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| Well I don’t give a care for your sorry opinion
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| I just came here to borrow your women; |
| and now all of ya grinnin' (Hahahaha)
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| You only like when I’m bein' rude
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| Shame on you for bringin' out the fight in a decent dude
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| «But everybody likes to see a good beatin', Lou»
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| We’ll see how much you like when the fight’s between me and you (Oooh)
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| And I don’t need to do physical harm (Okay)
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| My evil tunes got their own miserable charm (Uh-huh)
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| So when I spin a few yarns in your psyche (Uhh! Uhh! Uhh!)
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| If you aren’t in tight jeans, you’re likely to shart on your Nikes (Ya know…)
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| You won’t find me in a trendy nightclub
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| I spend my nights buzzed at friendly dyke pubs (Ohh! Ohh!)
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| White suds and not a sign of Cristal
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| If you’re an AA sponsor, you won’t find me at all (Nope!)
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| You’ll never catch me in a bracelet or necklace
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| That’s worth more money than the place where I rest is (Hooo!)
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| I traded my desk in for rhymin' on tour
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| And now my grimey old boss can’t find me at all (Oooooowwweeee!)
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| Yo, Yo… I'm one short tick, from some poor kid gettin' his heart broke
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| Feelin' like he’s breathin' cigar smoke (Hahaha)
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| Cause cars don’t make you cool (Uh-uhh)
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| Nor does success when you neglect to graduate from school (Nah)
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| I hate to fuel all you criminal guys' continued demise
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| But oops! |
| Wait a minute, I lied (Oops!)
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| I love to see you squirm as I minimalize and trivialize
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| In rhymes I’m deliverin' live (Yeah!)
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| Cause I’ve got news for you, buckeroo (Uhh! Uhh!)
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| Whatever you suckas do tonight, tomorrow you’ll still wake up as you (Yooou)
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| What to do when your toughness proves
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| To be a teenage phase you suffered through 'till you’re twenty-two? |
| (Awww!)
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| You’re stuck with Lou, you can love me or loathe me (Uhh…)
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| I’m plannin' on stickin' around and becomin' and oldie (OG!)
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| They told me to get gone, I’m too damn headstrong (Yeah, c’mon!)
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| One hundred and ten songs later, what went wrong? |
| (C'mon! Okay!)
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| You won’t find me with a gun or a knife
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| Threatenin' somebody’s life, sellin' drugs, or in fights (Hooo! Hooo!)
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| It just doesn’t excite me to wind up in court
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| That’s why the guys on the force can’t find me at all (Nope!)
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| You’ll never catch me on the pop charts
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| In the back of a cop car, next to a has-been rock star (Hooo! Hooo!)
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| I’m not part of the celebrity grind
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| I’m the truly genuine kind that you’re desperate to find (Oooooowwweeee!)
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| Do the math, you can add up the factors
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| Lou’s as bad as rappers actin' like actors
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| You all suck a set of sweaty old blue-balled nuts
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| I suggest you go back home and practice
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| Fact is, your wackness sticks with you
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| Whether you switch to new sports, or record a disc or two
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| Keanu, nobody listens to the rock you write
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| They never give it to athletes on Oscar night
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| You gotta like how they create new things
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| To make you think you’re wrong for sayin' they DO stink
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| «Oh, you’re a hater? |
| Don’t hate, congratulate!»
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| Alright, we’ll celebrate when you make a track that’s great, deal? |
| (Duhh…)
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| Don’t hold your breath unless you were admittin' (Right?)
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| That the smell is straight litter box used by a kitten (Eww!)
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| All of you fake actors, athletes, and loser musicians (Yeah! Yeah!)
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| Should get the pink slip and lose your positions (See ya!)
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| Oh, okay… hahahahaha.
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| J.J. |
| Brown, Louis Logic
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| Uhh! |
| Uhh!
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| Yo, you do your thing man.
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| Do your thing
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| Yo Danny, somebody stop him, man
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| «Youuuu won’t find me there
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| Youuuu won’t find me… at all» |