| Sittin' back in the cut
|
| Looking fine
|
| Look at that nigga what
|
| This shit is mine
|
| So they call us stars
|
| I guess not all of us are chosen
|
| I drive a car with the top back
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| Cause my vanity’s my token
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| Now all this talkin' ain’t my style
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| About responsiblities
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| Like this here nation is my child like it’s direct humanity
|
| Sittin' back in the cut
|
| Looking fine
|
| Look at that nigga what
|
| This shit is mine
|
| You talkin' 'bout white children
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| Who kill their parents before school
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| I’m talkin' Lexus' with rims black
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| So when I drive back I look cool
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| Goodness the President’s human
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| And you’re all hypocrits
|
| I think I’m jaded make a sport of it
|
| Now I’m numb to the shit
|
| Sittin' back in the cut
|
| Lookin' fine
|
| Look at that nigga what
|
| This shit is mine
|
| I just wanna blow up
|
| Then baby who knows who’ll win the game
|
| When I close my eyes it all looks the same
|
| I don’t wanna know nobody’s name
|
| 'Cuz I’m going for dough when I go for game
|
| 'Cuz I’m going for… that’s why |