| Just some thoughts I been thinking
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| Known to be random but nah I ain’t drinking
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| I’m just saying
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| This shit I write could raise the dead
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| Niggas reaching out to me I ain’t seen in years
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| Fairweather season friends, October’s back
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| Like I reunite with the pen
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| I’m like Tip in sense
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| Welcome home T.I., things have changed some since
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| Your little brother K.R.I.T been holdin' it down during your pinch
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| In the South, out West, Kendrick, Pac would be proud no doubt
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| I been tryna bring my own reign to the house
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| B.I.G. |
| you should see your boy Jay these days
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| Best rapper alive, bring it back, Timberland suede
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| Nigga nasty, still rockin' the same old fade
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| And Mike how you feel ‘bout the NBA
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| Stacking teams — what, niggas can’t hold their weight?
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| Had a dream about me, L Boogie, Jean, Lyte
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| Latifah and Rah Digga going for broke on the mic
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| And I wonder if they’ll ever see us in the same light
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| Probably not, I wonder what Bambaataa think of hip hop
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| From now to when he recorded Planet Rock
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| I know some older one’s that diggin' it, some older ones not
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| And I’m thinking about programs they got
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| And all they doing, shit Dilla would probably go ham in his spot
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| I do, wish I could’ve worked with him too
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| Welcome home Prodigy, I’m glad you’re back in the booth
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| When it’s coming back we need them hard Mobb Deep tunes
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| Heard he’s coming back with them black-ass Timberland boots
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| I used to rock back early in my childhood roots
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| Just the thoughts that I had, I let my brain let loose
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| Like I wonder where Ninth a been if he hadn’t seen Juice
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| Or Phonte if he hadn’t a had that Source maggie in school
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| I’m just saying
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| Just thinking of the future and history
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| And how that without music that my life would be misery
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| I’m Kathy Bates
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| With no you, you wouldn’t know me
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| ‘Cause we bonded over things like Mos and Kweli
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| I’m just saying
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| This shit I write could touch a sister
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| Like drunk old niggas in clubs fucking with us
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| I’m Levi denim, I’m coming back, they’re wearing me out
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| Beside Pro Era, older niggas, yo New York in a drought
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| I wonder how even still them niggas hate on the South
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| They can’t do it
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| I want to prove it
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| I used to wonder how I’d feel the one day meeting an influence
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| I did it Saturday
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| Black Dante and Badu
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| Nas, I wonder if they could all see through the coolness
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| Besides the fan in me wanted to do an Indian move
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| Smoke dance ‘cause it hit me like pow-wow France
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| I want a tour Europe, Tokyo and Japan
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| And make enough money to take my parents from plans
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| ‘Cause her hands hurt and my daddy’s retired
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| But he’s still working overtime, graveyard eyes
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| And my youngest niece two, while the other one five
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| And the oldest one ten, she got dreams in her eyes
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| And I wonder if mine prove what she dream what she ‘lize
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| She can be
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| And if Kobe he had come to NC
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| Would he of had even more now than them six gold rings?
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| I’m just saying |