| Raised, in the home, of the brave, and begun
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| Paving, the way, was embraced, by the slum
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| Labeled as strange, but his name, will become
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| Top Of The Line, yeah
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| I suppose that your eyes were closed the whole time
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| I’ve been on the rise for almost five years
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| But most of my peers they hope I nose dived
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| Like an aircraft that crashed
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| They congrats you, dap you
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| When your back is turned they throw knives
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| I ain’t handicapped or slow or no average Joe
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| I see past the smokin' strobelight
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| Put me up against your favourite rapper
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| You sayin' snap and harder than me, close but no dice
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| The difference be in my consistency and I don’t need MC’s to ghost write
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| Who you know that pitch that always throws strikes
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| Everytime I get the ball across the goal line
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| I done made it off the bottom on the slow climb
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| If you talking to my dogs they all gon' cosign
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| And I’m sitting on a gold mine (Gold Mine!)
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| Songs I write are from the heart it ain’t meant for the closed mind (Closed
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| Mind!)
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| This more than bars they’re metaphors, it’s a cure for the soul, I, (Soul, I!)
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| Seal with the end of your rope and now I’m right here, closing by
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| Third time’s a charm, I already let them know, twice
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| Let me set the record straight I’m the best, there ain’t no one better,
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| fuckin' let the rest debate
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| I accept the hate that’ll desecrate I just set the pace
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| Set to detonate, some that disagree
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| Must be deaf cause they, underestimate
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| Me, but that’s okay
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| I’mma let you scream, let it resonate
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| Till they remember my name, I’m Rittz!
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| Bitch and I’m back in the face like paow!
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| Ain’t nobody gonna come and take my crown
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| They be takin' me for granted I be killin' everything you hearin'
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| Gonna lyrically raise eyebrows
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| We ain’t got to double time I do it 8 Mile style
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| Born in P.A. |
| and was raised down South
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| When I’m in your city hit the stage
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| I bounce, from the north side up, A-Town down
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| Some of these MC’s need CPR
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| Listen to the wack MP3's I’m bored
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| Your video is hard for me to sit through
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| Like Kanye’s speech at the MTV Awards
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| (You on point Rittz?) Sí señor
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| I got a pair of new shoes you probably never seen before
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| I used to be dead broke with some cheap Louis V decor, inside a Regal that was
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| leakin' oil
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| But now I cost five G’s for a feature the middle finger up begging for a
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| confrontation
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| And #FuckAnyoneWhoSaysHashtagInAConversation
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| Man I throw the peace sign, As-salamu alaykum
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| Cli-N-Tel was the crew and the congregation
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| People thinkin' I’ve become complacent
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| I’m just lookin' at the game feelin' nauseated
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| Lotta' rappers goin' pop like a condom breakin'
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| Sick of concentratin' on my skills when it’s gonna be useless (Gonna be useless)
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| All the music I hear just sounds the same
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| A bunch of wannabe Futures
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| You wanna be Eazy
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| You gotta be Ruthless
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| You wanna be me
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| Then you gotta be the smoothest
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| Gonna seem breezy watchin' me do this
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| Got a deep teacher and follow me students
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| Hit 'em with the woah (woah!)
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| That work everytime
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| Then we down start singing for the hoes (ho!)
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| Trippin off that line and some punk
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| Might overdose, off this dope I write
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| A lotta rappers wanna act like rock stars
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| When they square as fuck but that’s me for real
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| I got the pills and I’m fucking with a soft heart
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| Fist fight with my girl in the hotel punching the mirror
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| Breaking the door and the armoire
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| Shit I can’t recall the last 15 years wishing I could do an interview with
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| Nardwuar
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| I got an early morning flight to Hartsfield
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| Taking airplane shots witha chilli cheese slaw dog
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| Never gonna fall off, man I know I’m on now
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| Got a bunch of unknown numbers in my call log
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| People got me all wrong
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| See my hair and the beanie and they get the wrong idea
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| Say I look homeless shit my shoes 200 my shades 250 a pair
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| Watch out you’ll go blind
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| By the diamonds the side of my pinky that sparkle and shine
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| They call me Rittz, bitch
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| Top of the line
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| Ya-Uh-Yeah
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| Cli-N-Tel man definetely in effect man
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| If you ain’t fuckin with Rittz, pretty much you ain’t top of the line |