| I used to work at Subway
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| Seven bucks an hour wasn’t much money
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| But I be rapping and kicking it on my lunch break
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| Like «I'mma make it out this motherfucker one day»
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| I was in the back, back seat of the bus before a bluetooth
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| Got the boombox and a blunt, bootlegger deuce-deuce
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| H on my crew, we get drunk, a little coo-coo
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| Type of dudes who square up and knock a tooth loose
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| Quick to the basement, the, the, the basement
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| That is the window I’m planning to vacate with
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| Pops put on bars just in case somebody breaks in
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| That’s not gonna stop me from getting to the pavement
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| Shh, meeting Jerome at the bus stop
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| I got the bigger roll, paranoid buck cops
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| And all my city’s known for grunge, flannel, puck rock
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| And a bunch of Sub Pop, I was on that Buckshot
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| Window to window and wall to wall
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| Can of Krylon, we out to bomb
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| (Buckshot)
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| Four in the morning I’m with the squad
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| There we go, there we go, there we go, there we go
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| Window to window and wall to wall
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| Can of Krylon, we out to bomb
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| Four in the morning I’m with the squad
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| There we go, there we go, there we go, there we go
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| Just copped that new Boot Camp tape
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| The neighbors keep complaining ‘bout too much bass
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| Bang, bang, let me do my thing
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| Give me two cans and you gon' know my name
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| You don’t want to get involved
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| You know I be on these overpasses burning bridges, dog
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| You know I be dippin' through these alleys tryna diss the law
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| Sixteen with Adidas on
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| I’m too speedy for police I’m chiefin' through these streets, I’m gone
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| I got game, don’t need to talk anymore
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| Boppity-bo, tippity-toppity, I pop me some more
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| I was underground where he came from and he pop out a hole
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| Cracked the top back on the flat black aerosol
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| I woke up in the morning and I had a vision
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| These suit and ties got the nerve to call it vandalism
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| They hella mad, say my art is really bad for business
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| But I’mma paint a better world until the cans are empty
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| Now let it drip, let it drip
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| If they catch me doing dirt I’ll plead the fifth
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| I pop a top, I brought my Glock
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| Speakers bumpin', I was on that Buckshot
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| Window to window and wall to wall
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| Can of Krylon, we out to bomb
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| (Buckshot)
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| Four in the morning I’m with the squad
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| There we go, there we go, there we go, there we go
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| Chill-chill-chilin' with the crew
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| Just writing my name in graffiti on the wall
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| Who-who-who is he?
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| (Yeah, knowledge reigns supreme)
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| Got the world following the…
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| Turn up the CD or turn up the TV
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| Turn up your T-A-P-E, turn your phone up, crank up the PC
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| See, my boys are really PC if you’re talking graffiti
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| See, we call it aerosol art when we splatter the city
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| I got twenty five cans in my napsack
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| Crossing out the whick-whack
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| TIOS’s ain’t even get that
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| Fat tips and black books, yo, we rep that
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| 149th street bench is where we slept at
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| Clep-clap, clep-clap, clep-clap, clep-clap
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| Those are not my words, the spray can said that
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| Where them reds at, or them green turquoise?
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| Where my real graf writers? |
| Make some noise
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| Chill-chill-chilin' with the crew
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| Just writing my name in graffiti on the wall
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| Who-who-who is he?
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| (Macklemore)
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| Got the world following the…
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| (Buckshot, shot, shot, shot) |