| No more wine for me, no more dimes of weed
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| Cuz I’m tryin to see, if my mind can reach
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| The level of the game that we die to see
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| I’m talkin bout naturally where ya mind is free
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| See I’m a dying breed, a country-fried emcee
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| I used to rhyme for free, but now I rhyme for cheese
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| See it was bound to be, when there’s mouths to feed
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| and there’s bills to pay, somethin gotta give way
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| The way I feel today, I could care less
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| Cuz my mind is made, yeah my hair’s a mess
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| I don’t bother to shave, I walk around bare chest
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| like a candy face, like I’m wearin a vest
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| I dare ya to test, I push a hundred-five reps
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| Showin off my pecs, triceps and biceps
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| I’m all for the cause, ready to die next
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| I’m all for the cause, ready to die next.
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| We don’t even talk about it we live it, we live it
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| (How you gon’tell me how to live my life?)
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| (Can't nobody tell me how to live my life)
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| And if you think you can take it from us, come get it, come get it
|
| (How you gon’tell me how to live my life?)
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| (Can't nobody tell me how to live my life)
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| (This life?) — it’s mine
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| (It's yours?) — it’s mine
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| (That's right) — it’s mine
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| (That's yours) — this mine
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| Now ah, when I was a, young man
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| There was a couple of things poppa put in my head
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| Never; |
| sit down when ya need to stand
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| Never; |
| drink down all ya dreams and plans
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| Poppa, what’s that inside ya glass?
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| Don’t do as I do boy, do as I ask
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| See ah — do it right if ya gon’do it that fast
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| and — don’t do it if ya gon’do it half-assed
|
| Well, since then I been an over-achiever
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| Smoker and drinker, only I would opened my blinkers
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| And I’m broke, so I guess I gotta choke on my finger
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| Cuz I need to come up, ah I’m just a dreamer
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| A hustle schemer, these cops be corrupt like Rupp Arena
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| Try an bust my weiner, with these court subpeonas — petty misdemeanors
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| Boy you ain’t worth… like student like teacher
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| Same jeans in the spring that I strut in the fall
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| No comb, no fade, no nothin at all
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| I’ll give a finger for the haters and one for the law
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| Sounds fine, Nappy Roots; |
| a little somethin for y’all
|
| Get a dutch, jump the gultch, then stuff it with straw
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| Get higher than a motherfucker, deep in the call
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| Hit the liquor sto', makin mo', fifth and I pause
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| Get love tryna cut, got ya dick and balls
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| Awww, hell naw then broads at the wall
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| Big pimpin on a budget, tryna make it the mall
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| Thank the Lord, for just livin, makin the most
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| 'Scuse me, anybody got change I can borrow?
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| Dime? |
| Caught a penny tryna get to the mall
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| Wanna buy me some ice too, slip it and fall
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| Oops silly me, big nuts and they gone
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| Didn’t see that shit comin like a truck in the fall
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| Lemme hear ya say…
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| Nappy Roots see ya dawg, all my yeagaz…
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| It’s that life B, gotta make that choice…
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| It’s all on you…
|
| Lemme hear ya say…
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| Lemme hear ya say…
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| Lemme hear ya say… |