| (Ryan
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| Never would have made it, made it out
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| It’s god speed
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| It’s god…
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| It’s god speed
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| It’s god…)
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| Uh, this is just how I zone when Porter spaz, I was born at a quarter past
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| I was the color purple, Mom and Pop took me home in a Crown Royale bag
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| Now I’m the hottest nigga that you know with the coldest intentions
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| Uh, all I know is this flow and this pencil
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| The Lord is my shepherd, the Devil’s my Doberman Pinscher
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| The industry said I had to be an alcoholic
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| Who be havin' threesomes, be doin' acid and havin' seizures
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| Wish I could go back to my old school and slap the teachers
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| All I had to do to blow up was an album packed with features
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| I don’t relate to common folk, they focus on the comments, so
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| I’m gonna roll a Testarossa down the coast of Monaco
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| Lo and behold, your honorable
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| Niggas is sheep, niggas is sleep, 'bout as woke as a dinosaur
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| My connect’ll give you a whole kilo of coke so he can go Geronimo
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| He should receive a trophy for bein' the holy Jesus of flows, he the G.O.A.T
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| Baaah, that should be my, taaaag
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| I’m from the streets where the odds are not even
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| Robbery, thievin', ballers, debauchery, schemin'
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| Allah and Jesus, it’s hard to believe I’m a product of Eve in the garden of
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| Eden, speakin', how targeted we been?
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| Rihanna stalker, I’m parked in her DMs, shark in the deep end
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| Put the paws on you, I soften your defense
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| Hit your pause button, halt your critiquin'
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| Talk is cheap, the more you niggas talk it, it cheapens
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| And all I see is prayer 'round the streets today
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| I’m about a freak away from havin' Issa Rae eatin' out LisaRaye
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| Any artist out that you see is great, tell 'em I said bring his ass
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| Better bring his A, let his single play
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| We don’t care what you sing, hit you in the face with the butt of the gun
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| You leak and get your street cred and a few streams
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| Pop go the weasel, nigga, Fiva Nina, I’m the illest
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| You got pop culture fever, nigga
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| All I know is Big and Pac «es, pop toast and squeezin' triggers,
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| speedin' tickets
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| Now I’m pullin' cops over, give them niggas season tickets
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| Teesha used to shoot me down vicious, now she the missus
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| She turned me to a family guy quicker than Peter Griffin
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| I told myself when I was 14 that she the one
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| Now a nigga probably got more seeds than Peter Gunz
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| Now I go out to get my groceries in two-seaters
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| Used to roll the old school, four speakers and two tweeters
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| Ridin' with nothing but raw quarterpacks and duffels
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| Ryan writes heaters
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| Y’all niggas is cut like one them «Get Rich or Die Tryin'"wife-beaters
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| Me? |
| I’m just all shoulder straps and muscle
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| If you a hater, let’s do it, I whip you now and then whip on your boy later
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| Them whippins’ll go around like a tornado
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| I get rid of more yayo, I don’t do Rodeo
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| Or ales, I do the Floyd May-o's
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| So many men shopping the women’s section, it ain’t no ladies left These niggas
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| crazy? |
| Yes
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| They playin' crazy like the Chappelle sketch, Wayne Brady ep
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| I’m what you get when Freeway Rick and Cocaine 80's met
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| Bringin' bars back to the streets like Jay and Nas beef
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| Broadcastin' «Ether"in HD at God speed |