| Motherfuck you
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| Straight up fuck you
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| Double fuck you
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| Bitch fuck you
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| I want this anthem for those who can’t find em
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| For them industry who don’t know talent from
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| Becoming obvious that they’ve been plotting on us
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| Tryna stop us from accomplishing profiting dollars that are ours
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| We underground man, we do it ten times harder
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| Hella shows, payin' dues we true to life artist
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| Hustle mentality with confidence to
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| Straight to the top, defy gravity to reach furthest
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| It’s in my blood like a deadly venomous element
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| And I’ve accapted it look into my eyes it’s evident
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| Each and every sentences further to rappin' instead
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| I’ve been earnin', deservin' every single chance that I get
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| And I can’t help it if you’re hatin' homie
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| Let me tell you this:
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| I’m one of the hardest rap artists to lyrics when I spit
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| My work ethic is set on to everybody admits
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| So if you’re talkin' shit on me then you can suck on my dick bitch
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| (Fuck you!) To major labels and their whole stuff
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| (Bitch fuck you!) To the radio, kiss my ass
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| (Motherfuck you!) To the people doubting my craft
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| (Straight up you!) For thinkin' you can witness me crashed
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| (Double fuck you!) To the haters off in the past
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| (I'm like fuck you!) Sneaky little snakes in the grass
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| (Never trust you!) Prayin' that I’m comin' in last
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| Carefull throwin' all them rocks when you’re livin' in glass
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| The heart of an artits is often the hardest to damage
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| So careless from being rubbish' is shape shifts to granted
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| All you want is to be heard to strike a nerve
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| Despite the obsticles that are spiting you with each and every curve
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| It’s a paradox a literal pandora’s box
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| You often give up everything, regardless if they care or not
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| And they being all them people in charts
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| CEO’s, major labels sittin', watchin' you starve
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| They’re turning ringtone rappers in the national stars
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| And makes you mad as hell, smashin' knuckles to scars
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| While billboard keeps on grindin' for them phonies at large
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| Is got crawling in your skin while they’re claiming them charts
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| And it’s never been about the talent
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| It’s all about the who’se paying and who will management
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| Cause who you are is who you know and that is adamant
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| To be successful and relevent, that’s the end of it
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| Fuck em I say «to hell with it»
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| (Fuck you!) To major labels and their whole stuff
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| (Bitch fuck you!) To the radio, kiss my ass
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| (Motherfuck you!) To the people doubting my craft
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| (Straight up you!) For thinkin' you can witness me crashed
|
| (Double fuck you!) To the haters off in the past
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| (I'm like fuck you!) Sneaky little snakes in the grass
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| (Never trust you!) Prayin' that I’m comin' in last
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| Carefull throwin' all them rocks when you’re livin' in glass
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| Strictly independent, gorilla hustle underground rap phenomene
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| I never backdown and I’m back on with the vengence
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| The snake and bat has got my back with each and every sentence
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| I keep on grindin' and rhymin' it right every second
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| Supplying divine lines from my ol' mic, check it
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| You look suprised to find em alive but I’m not stressin'
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| I won’t comply to your lies and can’t try pride agression
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| And did I mention? |
| It’s all karma and it’s right from the wine
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| Sorta like Mike Tyson I fight night
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| I’m hyped till I fight for mine
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| The truth hurts like a knife, like a spike in the spine
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| And thanks to the talking, you for helping me shine
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| (Fuck you!) To major labels and their whole stuff
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| (Bitch fuck you!) To the radio, kiss my ass
|
| (Motherfuck you!) To the people doubting my craft
|
| (Straight up you!) For thinkin' you can witness me crashed
|
| (Double fuck you!) To the haters off in the past
|
| (I'm like fuck you!) Sneaky little snakes in the grass
|
| (Never trust you!) Prayin' that I’m comin' in last
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| Carefull throwin' all them rocks when you’re livin' in glass |