| I’m off the clock, permanently calling shots like Dick Vitale
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| Shake up the world for sure, no Richter Scale
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| Blindfold the truth from youth, I lift the veil
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| Please don’t fuck with me
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| Living the dream, secretly I’m seeing the things you see on the screen
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| Recently I fiend for weed, I need it to dream
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| Niggas ain’t paid their dues — I need receipts
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| Please don’t fuck with me
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| I been through weathering storms, torrential rain
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| My penmanship just pencils instant pain
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| Came from 9-to-5's, afraid to fly
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| Till I earn my wings and now they wave goodbye
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| Took me thirty years just to get it started
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| Long as the tombstone says artist
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| Dreamville the '96 Bulls
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| Taking all y’all power breaking 48 Laws
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| How 'bout it?
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| I played my cards and changed the odds my nigga
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| How 'bout it?
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| I made it through hell while blocked from heaven my nigga
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| How 'bout it?
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| I played my cards and changed the odds my nigga
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| How 'bout it? |
| How 'bout it?
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| Hot rod, ride by, slow down the block
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| Shots fired, drive-by — Lord will it stop?
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| Cowards on the news think that cowardice is gritty
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| Bullets whizzing by me every time I’m in the city
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| Kill me, rob me, take my gems and jewels
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| And paint my schools with Jesus Christ as white
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| Then lock my father up for life
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| Institutionalize my rights, then hide my plight from sight
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| That’s trickery, steal our swag, that’s mimicry
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| I am original man, empirically
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| Chi City heart, I’m just being honest
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| Born poet, nigga fuck a song here’s a sonnet
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| How 'bout it?
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| I played my cards and changed the odds my nigga
|
| How 'bout it?
|
| I made it through hell while blocked from heaven my nigga
|
| How 'bout it?
|
| I played my cards and changed the odds my nigga
|
| How 'bout it? |
| How 'bout it? |