| 'Guess I’m hard to ignore
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| Cause my life’s recorded
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| Futon on the floor
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| Trying make this music shit orbit
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| Just got off tour
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| No more saying that I can’t afford shit
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| I never brag, let me brag
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| Never will we forfeit
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| I’m a self-admitted narcissistic
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| Optimistic, but you fuckers got me livid
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| Allergic to all your gimmicks
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| I speak that realness, images that’s often vivid
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| I know she gon' feel this, I approach her; |
| she soft & timid
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| She knows my old shit, Guessing she’s a huge fan
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| Thought I wouldn’t notice, I’mma make her cream like Wu-Clan
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| She like my raspy raps, that means that ass be tapped
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| Don’t just hit and quit, I’mma gentleman I pay for the taxi back
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| Back
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| When I had my back against the wall
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| When I had to jump through rings on fire
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| So you fucks would take Jay’s calls (and)
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| It’s whack now how you slob up on my balls
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| Probably heard I was working with them
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| Googled me, watched Feel Tall…
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| In fact, this hasn’t even gon' to printing
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| You got the exclusive breaking news:
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| Fucker this is just the beginning
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| Tomorrow ain’t promised
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| Trying to rewrite my ending
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| 'Til I’m in it, six feet diggin'
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| Far from finished, know I’m grinning yeah
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| I was more hand-me-down, then stuck up
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| It all comes back around, when the bucks up
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| I was more overdue, than over you
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| Time heals wounds
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| No matter what you’re going through
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| Oooh
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| I never was a rich kid
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| But best believe that I’m dying one
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| I never was a rich kid
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| But best believe I’m dying one
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| Everywhere I go they say I look so damn familiar
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| Grew up on the Roc, But Chris & Cam keep trying to put me on Dilla
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| They say stop, cause I keep smoking all my cigarettes down to the filter
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| Been through a lot, if you don’t do this shit
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| Life’s a bitch she will kill ya
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| Stuck in that first apartment
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| Locked in a prison… I was so broke
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| Didn’t know where my heart went
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| Bank account: all I see is 0's
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| My mom kept arguing
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| Wishing that I got my Diplome
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| But fuck that shit
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| I wanna be rich
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| See This story gets old so…
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| For years its been written…
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| See I came from slim pickin’s
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| Now all these hoes they been smitten
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| From all the flows I’ve been spittin'
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| Funny now people wanna act different
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| Rumor has it we first class trippin'
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| I lay this down, they take my sound
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| Let me call it now, they adlibbin'
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| How you feelin'? |
| Under that ceiling
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| Over your head, gon' crush the whole building'
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| (The) view from here probably look a bit different
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| When you know your shit comes from the heart, that’s the realest…
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| Never shot a gun, never was dealer
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| Fuck that whack shit, mixtape filler
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| Build an empire, start with a pillar
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| Now I’m on fire, so far from the cellar…
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| I was more hand-me-down, then stuck up
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| It all comes back around, when the bucks up
|
| I was more overdue, than over you
|
| Time heals wounds
|
| No matter what you’re going through
|
| Oooh
|
| I never was a rich kid
|
| But best believe that I’m dying one
|
| I never was a rich kid
|
| But best believe I’m dying one
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| I’m dying one…
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| I’m dying one…
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| I’m dying one… |