| Guess who’s back fuckers? |
| Roll that weed up
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| Engineer, please turn the goddamn beat up
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| Cats' ridin' tails on your man’s tuxeda'
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| Yo I sonned a hundred rappers but I ain’t gon' feed ya'
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| This my new shit, I’m back in business
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| If you didn’t get this you’re on my shitlist
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| I’m at your doormat like Jehovah’s Witness
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| With Balboa’s gloves ready to go the distance
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| FLY PIG up in this, haters are nervous
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| Thinkin' I’mma say their little name in my verses
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| I ain’t a maniac though, I’m a man with a purpose
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| If I shitted on somebody then they prolly deserved it
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| Bags of that purp' shit, OG Kush
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| Tell your friends about them yo but this the shush
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| This rap shit? |
| No more beatin' 'round the bush
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| I’m the new Jesse Jacks', Operation PUSH
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| Brand new Nikes on, brand new hat
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| Fresh out your bitch with a brand new rap
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| Knock knock, motherfucker, guess who’s back?
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| With some shit for your ass, where the fuck y’all at?
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| These girls like «You're such a fuckin' asshole Mat!»
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| Cause I’m with the next chicken in eleven minutes flat
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| Fans give me dap then I sign an autograph
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| Sayin' «Thanks for the support, one love» and all that
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| Some cats hang around smokin' my cigarettes n'
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| Stressin' me out askin' all sorts of questions
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| They wanna know the secrets of my magic like Kreskin
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| Like I’m gonna break down now and start confessin'
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| Here’s a question people ask a lot:
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| «How you write your rhymes?» |
| You wanna rap? |
| Then watch:
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| I smoke massive blocks of hash and pot
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| 'Til I float through space like an astronaut
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| Then I scribble on the page and the track his hot
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| Then I wave on the haters like a traffic cop
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| And Mr. Show Promoter better have my guap
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| I’m a motherfucker, just like my bastard Pops
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| Brand new nikes on, brand new hat
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| Fresh out the booth with a brand new track
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| That’s right motherfucker guess who’s back?
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| With some shit for your ass, where the fuck y’all at?
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| Everybody talking' 'bout your boy ain’t right
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| Cause I cross out tags in the broad daylight
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| I built my name out of bricks not hype
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| Respect the architect, Frank Lloyd Wright
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| My first two shits', had hits accidentally
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| Moonshine, two-times as strong as your Hennessey
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| Mixtape, sick straight through to the endin' G
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| 2707, crime of the century
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| Mention me in the tale of this town
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| Bring some motherfuckers if you comin' for this crown
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| Swim with the big fish, you bound to drizz-own
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| Middle finger up, never turn my shit down
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| I’ll get down 'til I’m up in a cage
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| Got paid, no one’s seen me in a couple of days
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| Puffin' haze, cuffin' strays, son I’m stuck in my ways
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| Ain’t dumb in brains, I’m just too fuckin' stubborn to change |