| This ain’t 'Ye, it’s more like AIDS
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| This ain’t James it’s more like a trade and you more like Wade
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| And I ain’t playin', I’m more like Cuban
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| Not the cigar, Mark; |
| introducing…
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| (It's the new!) Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
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| Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
|
| Naw, this ain’t Wayne, it’s more like Pain
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| And I ain’t talkin' bout with T-dash in front
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| I’m more like needin' rehab for months
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| Hock and spew lyrics
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| On Dr. Drew’s spirit until he has the mumps
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| Drunk, that’s if I can put it in one word
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| My niggas that ain’t with all the drinkin', they want herb
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| So even though the car plush
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| The ashtray full of dark butts
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| Like we rollin' up lookin' for Yung Berg
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| Top off, bitch in the front, domin' me up 'til my rock soft
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| Either that or she gon' get lockjaw
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| Stop? |
| Naw! |
| If she come up for air, I cut her of
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| Like Jesse Jackson with a hand on Barack’s balls
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| Ahh-aww! |
| Nigga, it’s me!
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| Jumper movie in the flesh straight from It’ly
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| Five series, six series Benzes
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| Fuck them little C’s, I’m on some ole Maino shit
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| Throw everything at you but the kitchen sink till I plug you
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| It’s goin' down, I’m on some ole Draino shit (Oh!)
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| I’m the Rich Po, not so, the flow spells gospel
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| Book you for a show and turn your hotel to hostel
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| (It's an invasion!) This ain’t Luda, it’s more like Shooter
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| Better yet, Shot Ya, Pac or Big Poppa?
|
| (It's the new!) Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
|
| Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
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| This ain’t Jay, it’s more like sprayed
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| The kind that confuse kindness with polite play
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| My bitch got two midgets in the bra
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| And a nose like a vacuum, she live by the Snow White way
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| Fuck Forbes, fuck money till they put some black heads
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| In them motherfuckers like they come from pores
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| Hip-hop is alive, my nigga, come for yours (Yes!)
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| I got the hood open, attached to jumper cords (Yes!)
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| Alone in the mirror, rub-a-dub-dub
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| I ain’t the game (I ain’t the game)
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| Even though I don’t belong in this era (Green Lantern!)
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| I’m tryin' to take shit past Nas, Jay, Shady & Dre shit
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| Shout out to the Doc, I’m tryin' to find patience (Woo!)
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| Lookin' like I’m pacin', like hello, say hello to me
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| I elbowed my way into niggas' conversations
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| I don’t write rhymes, I commit death threats
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| This my new name if you ain’t guessed yet!
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| (It's the new!) Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
|
| Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
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| Yeah! |
| (Yes) This ain’t Fif, it’s more like a gift
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| A bottle of Cris, on side of a sip or a quality lick (Ahh!)
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| I’m the shit, you try to be sick
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| I be ridin' with silenced machine guns
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| While you be tryna be Tip (Ahh!)
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| I’m still hood, I move, minus the bus pass (Yeah)
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| Out with the poverty in with the new deluxe pad
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| This black nina told me I’m a black leader (Uh-huh)
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| That’s why I be preachin' like David Banner
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| Minus the mustache (Haha)
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| But I ain’t runnin' from nothin' as long as rappers is runnin'
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| They receive death from a sentence like capital punishment
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| The flows is mean, I make a nigga lean
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| Like puttin the word «meth» in between «pro» and «-zine»
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| Your bitch sprung right after my dick, go fish
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| I leave her numb like a tongue after a coke kiss (Yeah!)
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| I’m focused, I spit madness, you niggas is borin'
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| You at a level orange with your bitch-ass-ness (How?!)
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| Plots is thickenin' and I care about rappers
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| Bout as much as I care to see Terrance and Rocski bickerin'
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| Watch is sickenin', Glocks specifically hot
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| I’m trippin', is you with me or not?
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| (It's the new!) Best rapper alive, best rapper alive
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| Best rapper alive, best rapper alive |