| Before I knew what I was doing, I was trying to do something
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| That’s the definition, listen, of a know-it-all young’n
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| Hard headed, hardly headed, in directions I intended
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| Where I ended wasn’t deaded, like no exit except the entrance
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| Now I’m making my entrance as if I’m hopping the fences
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| Thinking I’m being careful, but really I’m just an infant
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| Adolescent at best, had a lesson at livin'
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| Given to me the stress, inherited with the vision
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| Wool over my eyes, blue, say is the sky
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| Gray is the true color, but who sayeth the why?
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| So do that make me pessimistic
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| If I fill up my head with the best of this shit?
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| Niggas say I’m cool, shorties say I’m their lipstick
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| On the tip of their tongue is my lyrics they’re whisperin'
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| Let’s make it apply, right place and the time
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| Tight space and the vibe is right for lacing a rhyme
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| Might say I’m in prime, light laced in the lime
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| Bittersweet is the beat and together taste is divine
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| Lemonade in my shine, dimmer shade in the blind
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| Spots in my mirror, forward never rewind
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| Plot’s vividly clearer, not saying that I’m
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| Knowing just what I’m doin', but got faith in my grind
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| So stop, haters, you’re lying, if you say that you can get it how I get it
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| Swab test; |
| you failed, can’t spit it how I spit it
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| One of these days, baby, I hope to be
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| Whatever they be is all that I hope to be
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| One of these days, baby, I hope to be
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| They’re saying «oh, bring that real shit, something you can feel shit»
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| Numb to that dumb it down spun overkill shit
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| Run over hills shit, dated like the fifth wheel
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| Hate it when they made it but they praise it just to get deals
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| Me, never that, Man: that’s never happening
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| See, I be rapping for that feeling I got back when
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| I was riding on a big wheel
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| When friends owing me a dollar was a big deal
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| Sunday night, grandmama would cook a big meal
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| Meaning that I do it for the innocence in it, still
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| And if I’m naive, fuck it then, shit will
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| Seems better even though the weather seem chill
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| Spleen chills at the idea seeming fake
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| Even though imitation makes mean bills
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| I mean, innovation will get you recognition
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| But «keep it real» is really code for when the check is missin'
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| And that’s cool, cause me, I’m a realist
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| Optimistically drinking from the glass of the pessimistic
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| Hey, check it, listen |