| This Mase, you know what I’m saying
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| You got niggas that don’t like me for whatever reason
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| You got niggas that don’t wanna see me rich
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| You got niggas that’s mad cause I’m always with they bitch
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| Then you got niggas that just don’t like me
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| You know the, those PHD niggas
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| But you know I pop a lot of shit but I back it up though
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| See it’s a difference
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| A lot of niggas pop shit
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| But a lot of niggas don’t make hits
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| But it’s like this whole Bad Boy shit
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| We come to bring it to y’all niggas, me, B.I., Puff, Lox, whoever, Black Rob
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| If you wanna dance, we dance
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| Now trick what, lace who, that ain’t what Mase do
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| Got a lot of girls that’d love to replace you
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| Tell you to your face boo not behind your back
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| Niggas talk shit, we never mind that
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| Funny never find that, Puff a dime stack
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| Write hot shit and make a nigga say, rewind that
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| Niggas know, we go against the Harlem Gigolo
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| Getcha ho, lick her low, make the bitch hit the door
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| I represent honeys with money fly guys with gems
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| Drive with the tints that be thirty-five percent
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| Hoes hope I lay so I look both ways
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| Cop says okay my tint smoke gray
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| No way, nigga leave without handing me my shit
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| Got plans to get my Land and my six
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| Niggas outta pen’ll understand this shit
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| Pop champagne like I won a championship
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| Been around the world and I I I
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| And we been playa hated
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| I don’t know and I don’t know why
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| Why they want us faded
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| I don’t know why they hate us
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| Is it our ladies
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| Or our drop Mercedes
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| Baby, baby
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| I was in one bedroom, dreaming of a million
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| Now I’m in beach houses, cream to the ceiling
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| I was a gentleman living in tenements
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| Now I’m swimming in all the women that be tens
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| Went from Bad Boys to the Crushed Linen Men
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| Now my divi-dends be the new Benjamins
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| Hoes of all complexions
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| I like cinnamon
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| Mase you got some hoes well nigga send em in
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| What you waiting for, let the freak show begin
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| How they came in a truck? |
| (Nah Puff, that’s a Benz…)
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| Mercedes, c’mere baby, you don’t like the way
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| It’s hot and hazy, never shady, you must be crazy
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| It’s ridiculous how you put your lips on this
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| Don’t kiss right there, girlfriend, I’m ticklish
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| And I be switching ve’s with a wrist full of G’s
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| Nigga please, I’m the macaroni with the cheese
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| Been around the world and I I I
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| And we been playa hated
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| I don’t know and I don’t know why
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| Why they want us faded
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| I don’t know why they hate us
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| Is it our ladies
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| Or our drop Mercedes
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| Baby, baby
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| Now Puff rule the world even though I’m young
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| I make it my biz to see that all ladies cum
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| Get em all strung from the tip of my tongue
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| Lick em places niggas wouldn’t dare put they faces
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| Before I die, hope I, remake a flow by
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| In the brand new treasure on a old try
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| Now when my throat dry, even when the smoke lie
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| Eat the Mami chocha and drive her loca
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| We never ride far, packed five in a car
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| Save money for the drinks
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| I’m about to buy the bar
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| And everywhere I drive I’m a star
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| Little kids all on the corner scream, that’s my car
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| It was days couldn’t be fly, now I’m in a T. I
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| Come in clubs with B.I., now a nigga V. I
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| Rock tons of gold, nuff money I fold
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| Roll the way you wanna roll, break a hundred at the toll
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| Been around the world and I I I
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| And we been playa hated
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| I don’t know and I don’t know why
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| Why they want us faded
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| I don’t know why they hate us
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| Is it our ladies
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| Or our drop Mercedes
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| Baby, baby
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| OK after these messages we’ll be back with
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| The Mad Rapper and his brother the Mad Producer, after this
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| OK just sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself
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| We’ll get you through this
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| Take a sip of water, deep breath, that’ll do it
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| And welcome back as you can see (You got the check though?)
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| I’m Trevor Jones and I’m sitting in
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| I’ve been conversing with the Mad Rapper (Did you get the check though?)
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| And he’s still pretty mad
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| But, this time he brought someone else with him
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| And quite frankly (yeah yeah) he’s even madder (You god damn right!)
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| Mr. Producer (yo, youknowhatI’msayin) why are you so mad?
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| Yo, Iiiiiii, I’mma I’mma keep it real simple for you
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| Yeah t-t-t-t-t-tell them niggas why you mad son!
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| Tell them niggas why you mad son!
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| (OK, gentlemen please, one at a time) |
| Tell em why you mad son, word up, tell em why you mad son!
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| Iiiiiii, Iiiiiii be I be I been
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| I been, I been here for the culture, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t
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| I don’t be recognizin all that new jack shit
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| Yo we don’t play, we don’t play that shit youknowhatI’msayin?
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| (Please Mr. Producer, explain yourself, Mr. Rapper, please calm down)
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| That nigga be on some bullshit, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| We ain’t, we don’t do that shit, word, yeah
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| He ain’t no real producer neither
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| And then come to find out youknowhatI’msayin
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| My brother hipped me to it, the nigga tryin to rap now!
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| Oh yeah, that’s the shit that got me mad!
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| (Please, Mr. Rapper, once again)
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| That’s the shit that got me mad!
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| That’s the shit, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| (It's a family oriented show)
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| That’s the shit that feds me up
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| (Gentlemen, please)
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| Word up, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| (Disregard the foul language)
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| I’m watchin this nigga video youknowhatI’msayin?
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| They got mermaids swimmin in they living rooms and shit
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| Like that youknowhatI’msayin?
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| This nigga dancin in the rain with kids climbin up mountains and shit
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| YouknowhatI’msayin?
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| I’m I’m I’m watchin this nigga video
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| (I'm gonna have to ask you to refrain from the language)
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| The car goin two hundred miles an hour
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| WHERE THE FUCK IS HE GOIN?!
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| (Please Mr. Rapper, please refrain from the foul language)
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| The nigga climbin out the fuckin car!
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| (One more time)
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| Let me see you try that shit on a train!
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| Try that shit on a fuckin train
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| What kind of shit, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| Got a thousand niggas write for him, let ME write for you
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| Son my shit is jumpin, I got John Blaze shit… |