| You’ve been deprivin' 'em of the real, been on a vacation
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| (No matter where we go)
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| If you ask me, all around the world, I think they sleepin'
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| But we ain’t sang you a lullaby
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| (I got no love in my heart for the other side)
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| B-b-bye, bye, bye
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| The streets said I’m either supposed to be in jail or dead
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| My uncle told me before he died to watch for these whores
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| Before I wake up in the bed in the morn'
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| Next to a horse head, prolly why I’m war-bred
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| Prolly why my self-portrait, should be a Porsche with bald tires
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| And poor tread, to symbolize my upward swim, uh!
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| Nigga, we ain’t go to no NBA
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| All we know’s to sweep rappers up to K
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| Lookin' like, I’m tryna rake leaves on a windy day
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| So leave me out of your kind of war, be hysterics
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| When’s the last time you seen a carnivore eat a carrot?
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| When’s the last rhyme you heard that had you trying to find your words?
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| Such absurd verbs do not disturb blurbs
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| Slid to the curb, he’s not the first herb written on a mirror
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| Blurred rap guys is buyin' by like flies on a turd
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| Preemo and Royce surprise 'em, eye-to-eye 'em, they scurred
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| Slur intended, demented, got some nerve
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| Got no patience and a little perturbed, you heard?
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| Guessin' wit' more questions than answers
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| Why they started rhymin'? |
| Should’ve just remained dancers
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| It’s better odds than countin' cards at the Luxor…
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| Carbon fiber, black mask, askin' what the fuck tux for
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| Deluxe war, to whom it may concern
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| It’s too late to burn; |
| DOOM; |
| you wait your turn
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| Hey there, music world, you’ve been keepin' 'em waitin'
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| (These are my highs and lows)
|
| You’ve been deprivin' 'em of the real, been on a vacation
|
| (No matter where we go)
|
| If you ask me, all around the world, I think they sleepin'
|
| But we ain’t sang you a lullaby
|
| (I got no love in my heart for the other side)
|
| B-b-bye, bye, bye
|
| I remember bein' broke, playin' Little Brother out my mother whip
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| Now I got some shit look like the mothership
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| Now my little brother got my other whip
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| Havin' to return it back to me…
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| Is exactly what he think the meanin' of struggle is
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| People compliment my grind, they wonder how I stay this clean
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| Comin' from Michigan, you don’t seem to age
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| That’s cause I don’t whine about the state of things
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| Hatin' on others’ll get you old quick
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| So I just salute and let my flow switch
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| Takin' my shit to the highest of levels
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| Combinin' everythin' that I have developed since '99
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| My style just seems to get better and better and better
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| Hoppin' out the custom Corvette
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| The same hustle, ready for whatever
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| Not a mushroom, portobella
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| I’m a truth-storyteller, uh, uh, right on
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| Hey there, music world, you’ve been keepin' 'em waitin'
|
| (These are my highs and lows)
|
| You’ve been deprivin' 'em of the real, been on a vacation
|
| (No matter where we go)
|
| If you ask me, all around the world, I think they sleepin'
|
| But we ain’t sang you a lullaby
|
| (I got no love in my heart for the other side)
|
| B-b-bye, bye, bye
|
| Grab the microphone like he smack a rapper iPhone
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| PRhyme time, time’s up, dial tone, smile’s on
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| Show your teeth, known by the wild prone
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| All getters, pile on, gone since child grown
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| On the count, check, you’ll catch a pound next
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| Stop clownin' around for rec', no disrespect 'tended
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| Said it, I meant it
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| Before it’s invented, get it, did it, spent it
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| Keep the change, he needs that receipt, thanks
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| MCs need franks regardless of street rank
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| Their feet stank, we never leave the beat blank
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| Masterpiece theatre, we the no limit think tank
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| Love to hit the club with my nigga cause when we drank
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| He think he a pimp but he can’t see that them three skanks look nothing like
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| Selita Ebanks
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| Wake up in the morning like, «Gee, thanks»
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| Tigallo the polymath, Raleigh boy, rap game Rolly Forbes
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| Never with the same sound, crazy like James Brown on Polydor
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| Sniffin' cocaine off of a bodyboard
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| Quick to 86 your top five if he not in yours
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| Why so serious? |
| What y’all melancholy for?
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| Against us you’ll never score at all, nope
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| Never headline a tour at all
|
| Y’all Flintstone chewables fuckin' with toradols
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| Now who you wanna call?
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| Hey there, music world, you’ve been keepin' 'em waitin'
|
| (These are my highs and lows)
|
| You’ve been deprivin' 'em of the real, been on a vacation
|
| (No matter where we go)
|
| If you ask me, all around the world, I think they sleepin'
|
| But we ain’t sang you a lullaby
|
| (I got no love in my heart for the other side)
|
| B-b-bye, bye, bye
|
| I rap, I rap, I rap circles around 'em
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| I rap, I, I, I rap, rap circles around 'em
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| I rap, rap, rap, rap circles around 'em
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| This the difference between y’all niggas and real rap
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| I rap circles around 'em
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| PRhyme! |