| Put a mirror in a nigga face and he’ll run
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| Tell him that you love him, he may pull out his gun
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| Look just like me, even down to the walk
|
| Noticed the difference probably soon as we talk
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| I do not politic with the fools
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| Counterfeit systems, I’m more than kind of bending the rules
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| Donavan Mitchell, I’m definitely finna talk all this jazz
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| Constantly victim, I’m more than kind of hip to the blues
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| That’s why I could give a shit 'bout the news
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| Excel despite we consciously victim
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| These niggas like to strip us of truth
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| Large contradictions, I’m 6'5″ tryna fit in the coupe
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| Large contributions to culture, and somewhere someone sitting in cubes didn’t
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| approve?
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| No ice cubes in my Riesling and you should know that
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| Wash the chicken before you season it, you should know that
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| That’s a metaphor, my nigga please don’t get caught off the Prozac out here
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| nodding off
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| I’m out here getting to these visions I was plotting on
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| I windowshopped it, then I copped it, now I got it on
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| And I know everything that came before that dotted line these days
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| Held a mirror to my face (who you think you talking to huh?)
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| I didn’t run away
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| I ran in place
|
| Put a mirror in a nigga face and he’ll run
|
| Tell him that you love him, he gon' pull out his gun
|
| Look just like me, even down to the walk
|
| Noticed the difference probably soon as we talk
|
| We only talk about ball
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| We only talk once a year, not even that, I don’t call
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| I haven’t called in like three
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| He 6'2″ I’m 6'5″ he used to make me feel small
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| I used to think he was strong now I know he just weak
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| Got me climbing a mountain it’s all cliffs and no peaks
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| I was slide, hydroplaning, it’s all drifts and no grip
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| It’s all good, don’t trip
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| I used say that with tears
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| He only heard with his ears
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| We speak with more than our lips
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| My shoulders Pringle, no chips
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| I ain’t gon' make it, nuff said
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| One day I didn’t get upset
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| Some shit just is what it is
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| I put that shit on my kids though, I can not go out the same
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| That carpal tunnel my wrist, I’m way too deep with the script
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| It’s paralyzing in fact
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| The analyzing the facts
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| Calculating the trauma to iterate it on wax
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| Fam, if it wasn’t for rap
|
| This shit a mirror of sorts, got me seeing myself
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| See niggas see they reflections and get to peeing themselves
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| Them untethered connections ain’t really freeing at all
|
| Cold shoulders, I just pray I get to see them shits thaw
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| Bulldozing through the haze, that’s why it’s coming so raw
|
| And I ain’t sorry at all
|
| Put a mirror in a nigga face and he’ll run
|
| Tell him that you love him, he may pull out his gun
|
| Look just like me even down to the walk
|
| Noticed the difference probably soon as we talk |