| Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know what I’m sayin, yo, yo, OK
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| So this is it kids, your whole fifteen bucks worth
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| It’s been a long wild ride getting here
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| Lost a lot of friends, made a few lifelong bonds
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| Mostly enemies though, so, uh, you know
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| I guess at this critical juncture, y’all expecting some answers
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| To a few pertinent, burning questions
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| You know, «What's gettin' ready to happen with hip hop, Lou?»
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| «Yo Lou, what’s gettin' ready to happen with hip hop man, what’s getting ready?»
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| So I tell 'em, «You know what’s gonna happen with hip hop?»
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| «You know what’s gonna happen with hip hop, man?»
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| I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen with hip hop, money:
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| Whatever the fuck I say!
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| If it isn’t broke don’t fix it
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| That’s why I call bitches hoes and hoes bitches
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| A lot of politicians would probably wash my mouth with soap
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| That’s how it goes? |
| What, I’m not allowed to joke?
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| I never fix it if it ain’t broke
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| That’s probably why I drink beer and chain smoke
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| Think weird and now these emmer-effers wanna wash my mouth for me?
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| As if I don’t have my own eyes, how corny
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| Cry babies, you think you’re looking down on me
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| Cause I pound forty beers a night and walk around horny
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| Mother always said I had a mouth on me
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| Shit, I’m makin' records now, it worked out for me
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| So if it isn’t broke don’t fix it
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| That’s why I call niggas hoes and hoes bitches
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| You shitheads don’t get it, I’ll rephrase it then
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| I always play to win, so when the games begin you ain’t my friend
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| And so, in summation, for those delusional grandiose shits
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| Who feel their slimy characters are personified
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| In this polyrhythmic potshot of a record
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| I offer you this: I’m not not shittin' on you filthy motherscratchers |