| Yo, listen
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| Lunar, Manga, Jehst, yes, yo
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| You’re not on a badman ting, you play badminton
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| Don’t be acting tough, better pack that in
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| 'Cause that shit’s done
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| If you don’t know you better ask someone about me
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| Second album still putting out heat
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| My patience is running out
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| These MC’s get boxed in the fanny
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| I’m sat back watching the Grammys
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| Like what about me?
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| I don’t know why they keep hating
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| But they don’t ever wanna see Jake win
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| And I see MC’s faking
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| Tryna pull a fast one like speed dating
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| Anything, I flip this cash
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| Been doing bits and bats
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| Little bit of this and that
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| Told her I don’t wanna sit and chat
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| Na I just wanna link and smash
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| And my nose don’t grow like Pinnochio
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| No, no, no, no, this is facts
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| Told her I’m a real boy, no strings attached
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| You ain’t ever been this bad
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| Album sounding like a Best Of
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| You should probably get a desk job
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| And your girlfriend’s pussy smells
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| Like white people’s dreadlocks
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| Fresh out of fucks to give
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| I am, techy techy with the flows init
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| Deadly deadly, I just go kill it
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| Pricks wanna run their lips
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| God damn, tell them bitches mind their own business
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| They took the piss, I rubbed their nose in it
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| Fresh out of fucks to give
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| I am, definitely better than everybody
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| Even though I’m slyly blue like cyan
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| Or suttin
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| Grime royalty, you can’t kill me like Diane
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| That’s bait and rude actually
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| Fuck it like the island of Thailand
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| That was smart, geography and that
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| Local, still
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| I’m definitely butters and I still get girls
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| Dr. Bruckitup and Dr. Dolittle
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| When I speak to a goat, I talk to myself
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| Under arrest, they’re forcing theirselves
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| Hype on the net but they’re bored, I can tell
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| How many times can you rhyme drip with drip, on Snap recording yourself
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| Add me, best on this ting, don’t at me
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| Actually I’m really cold like Ashley
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| Get that quickly
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| bar, got a bad B
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| And how your watch is dear like Bambi
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| That’s hard, they were never challenging, tag beef
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| Yeah man, love that, mandem gas me
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| I’m losing the will to live
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| What type of shit is this?
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| Bruv, fuck
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| Fresh out of fucks to give
|
| I am, techy techy with the flows init
|
| Deadly deadly, I just go kill it
|
| Pricks wanna run their lips
|
| God damn, tell them bitches mind their own business
|
| They took the piss, I rubbed their nose in it
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| Fresh out of fucks to give
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| Yo, these MC’s pop corn, that’s Butterkist
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| Right now I’m fresh out of fucks to give
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| Wish it didn’t have to come to this
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| But I’m coming to your crib where your father and your brother and your sister
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| and your auntie and your uncle and your cousins live
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| Your mother’s right here while I’m writing
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| Got a bud like beer in the backwards
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| For the Buzz Lightyear that I’m lighting
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| This that shit
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| The smell and the sound loud, that’s how lives
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| It’s that piff, smoke in the air, nose following the scent like Bisto kids
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| Did a few bits in your bits
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| Made a few ends in your ends
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| Might’ve had a little fling with your bit
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| But I ain’t never made friends with your friends
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| You’re begging it, that mayo got egg in it
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| The recipe ain’t got no sweg in it
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| Better never say shit to my face 'cause I’m fresh out of fucks to give
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| So celibate
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| That’s a chastity belt
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| Clash any sound for the champion belt
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| These yout’s might get lashed with the belt
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| 'Cause if it isn’t heard then it has to be felt |