| Title match, tidal wave splash on you daft cunts
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| Count 'em up, rappers making tallies of they have nots
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| I’ma make some shit that I can pass down to my grandsons
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| We don’t give a fuck, (what) your momma says you’re handsome
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| (What) But here’s a beat to make you mean mouth your grand mum
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| Bitch please like a motherfucking anthem
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| And I don’t feel sorry, look, I even spared a hand gun
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| Powerful, and I’m only messing 'round a little bit
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| Gotta make ya ill, feel sick 'til ya spill shit
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| That’s how it goes, all I need’s a couple bricks to build with
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| A couple bricks and I’ma build myself a pyramid
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| Look alive, I’ve been wrecking crowds since back in high school
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| Town hero, rain down on em like a typhoon
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| Fuck ya thinking man? |
| Bragging is my right
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| Got a phototype for my people to get hyped to
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| Come on
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| On some crazy shit, other rappers baby dick
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| Pussy talk, lady bits, fuck 'em all lately it’s
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| Like all that shit gets eighty-six, wipe 'em out, wipe 'em out
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| Hold up though, they baby bitch, they hidin' out, they hidin' out
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| But we on a higher route, we the type that’s wylin' out
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| 'Til they beg us, 'til they plead us «Put that fire out!»
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| I’m about to burn 'em down fire mouth
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| I’ve been singin' competition, they just lie about it
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| Go ahead, do your worst, I won’t button my lip
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| First to tell ya that you never bump as large as my shit
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| Caveman, banging out these beats hard with my fists
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| So cold, you don’t know we got ice dicks
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| Watch out now I’m over here, try and catch my drift
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| Runaway train, I could crash through and I hit
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| Oh what, you didn’t know? |
| Pigeon Hole’s alive-ish
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| Murder, murder heat that make you leap from the hypeness |