| Yo, stop look and heed participate in the reorganizing
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| of a lyricist, decide the category I fall into
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| When I’m on the venue, I tend to serve a delicacy fella peep what’s on the menu
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| The slept on phenomenon, the mic be in my palm and on Many wanna hold me back, cause I’m comin on strong
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| subject matters are struck, my imagination
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| is wonder, that’s underestimated by sons of bitch who have power to sign me but
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| flaunt it wanted stuff I didn’t dig into my findings
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| so they’re univited
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| Tell me do this, do that, do this do that do this
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| in order to sell this, you gotta pursue this type of program
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| I ain’t no mascot for no massa
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| Like Mista Slave Driva some odd years ago and yo O is not about to be between an imaginary tug-of-war
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| Feedin me partk style with bread like a pigeon
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| So I say, get your ears ready for creative control
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| Cause no one’s gonna tell me how to sell out my soul hah (c'mon now)
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| Get your ears ready for creative control *ahh yeah’s start again for 4X*
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| Cause no one’s gonna tell me how to sell out my soul, yeah |