| You ain’t never heard of me
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| But after this I guarantee
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| You gon' committed to the Reks for life
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| You ain’t never heard of me
|
| But after this I guarantee
|
| You gon' committed to the Reks for life
|
| You ain’t never heard of me
|
| But after this I guarantee
|
| You gon' committed to the Reks for life
|
| You ain’t never heard of me
|
| But after this I guarantee
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| I hear the cheap shots day in, day out, blastin' my name
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| As if anybody out there slightly fathom my pain
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| Critics reviews, spittin' the news about my single
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| I see the hate in most MC’s eyes each time we mingle
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| Dappin' me and then attacking me is forbidden
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| If blastin' me your livin'
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| Don’t ask me about passion when I’m spittin'
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| Y’all not even a smidgen of half of me ya written
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| In freestyle my brain’s not even questioned, it’s a given
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| Pure focus, when I scrill it like poachers when I wrote this
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| When I write, my mind expand like the belly of Oprah’s
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| Hunger pains 'til the blood in my veins begin to suffer
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| Well like it said, what don’t take your life’a make you tougher
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| So I write until my finger tips are cripple-shaped
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| Touch you like a triple eight, to ventilate your mental state
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| I get so all abstract, don’t tell 'em what my pen’ll spray
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| Don’t ask me of you’re wack, son that’s just what I was sent to say
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| Whether you’re with Mos Def or whether you’re into Jay
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| Just give me a sec' to explain what I was sent to say
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| I roll with Skits dawg, guess a brotha guilty by association
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| I kept to your hood chief, I swear I hope your hatin'
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| My folks been waitin' to brawl through this paper chasin'
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| Y’all expectin' the Reks to fall, I stuck out my chest to all
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| Pressed it off, blessin' from the gods keep me focusin'
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| I want that open tent cheap bastard to choke or sink
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| No percent of my squad pretending we large
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| We from M-A-double dollar dawg, defendin' like guards
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| And sendin' them charts, from beginnin' them dots was short
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| Men saw the consequences of pretending their thoughts
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| Could compare to ours, lord, my southpaw put your jaws in gauze
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| For gosh my draw is so large; |
| no squad’s messing with my crew
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| Yeah them’s my dawgs, they got similar flows par
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| But them’s my balls, similar broads, but yours is
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| Wearing my drawls, preparing hearts for MSE’s cause, we the chosen |