| I’m signing off on this
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| On the same ones the treasury prints
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| With every intent to see niggas dying off of it
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| I signed to Sony
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| A couple of years after the NBA signed Kobe
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| And he about to retire
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| So if anybody see Don Lenner
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| Make sure you tell him I ain’t lost it yet
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| Somebody tell Tom Silverman «Hi"for me
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| Look in the sky there’s a fly sorcerer
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| Eye-balling me from of a flying saucer
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| And my mind is like a full clip
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| And my competitions' magazines are running low
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| Like the Source and Vibe offices
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| Since '99, Hip-Hop been like my orphanage
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| Got dropped a lot
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| But every time I signed I got a million
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| A&Rs and exec’s were telling me I’m not appealing
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| Try to turn me into Nas, I’m not him but I forgive you
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| This is a Boy Marley
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| Bob Dillon spiritual vibe that I’m feeling
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| These scars are time healing
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| Clearly you lost
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| You tried to put me in a box-how dare you
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| Try to minimize a lyrical God?
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| I’ll godzilla these walls
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| My prime’s no time near
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| I’ll improvise till my ceilings
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| Get wizard of Oz
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| I’m the illest alive
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| I’m the rose that rose
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| From the concrete with the thorn
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| And when I’m gone I shall live in a vase
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| Me and Porter just handling business
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| Boy we came a long way from blasting cannons
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| And having to throw 'em in trash cans
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| Dismantling shipments
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| I had the manager shift at my day job too
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| I laid down rules
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| No gas station past 8 mile
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| Past eight or late drive-throughs
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| Maxwell tap, you play the whole B side
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| You flip it over and hear the whole A side too
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| Now we got iCloud and FaceTime basically
|
| To knock down the grape vine
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| Make way as the chaos ensues
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| Niggas safe and ratchet calling themselves bosses
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| But they not
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| They David Hasselhoff
|
| And they bay watch
|
| But I’m cool
|
| Nowadays my life be lavish
|
| Who I’m out with tonight
|
| It might be a model or
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| Might be an actress
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| She might be a ballerina
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| She might do plays
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| She might just like theatrics
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| She might be famous
|
| I must just pipe her for bragging rights
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| She might get mad at the paparazzi
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| For flashing cameras at her ass
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| As she covers her face
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| As if she’s dabbing
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| She might be dragging
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| Meet at some uptight fashion show somewhere
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| Where people like Madonna and Bono go
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| I might take one look up and down at the clothes
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| And say, «Hell no, It’s time to go.»
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| Come on it’s time to go
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| I might fuck her on the kitchen table
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| At her crib in the H&tons
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| I might lay her down gently
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| I might slam her
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| I might even fuck around and yell domino
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| I soldiers sound off like «you got a pair.»
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| I’m a real nigga
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| I done lost a lot of friends over the years
|
| I’ve been losing a lot of hair
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| Been told that I’m out my mind
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| But if you only knew what was inside it
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| You too would choose to stay out of there
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| I take my hats off to the addicts
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| Going through something tragic in their lives
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| Shit even I backed off the madness
|
| I had to take some time off the rap and realize
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| Now how do I stop being underrated?
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| How do I get props like, let’s say, a Drake?
|
| But I rap with the skill set of let’s say
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| A Black Thought or an Elhzi
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| If Jay Elec can bag a Rothschild without an album then I can come back to rap
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| after doing some jail time
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| No one cares about sales now
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| They care about Facebook status
|
| It’s all about gadgets and getting fatter than hell
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| And consuming shit like them Patti LaBelle pies
|
| Like lunatics, speaking of, I knew this chick
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| Who used to just be happy to make it out the hood to see me
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| Then she got on some fucking shit
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| She’s starting asking me to do some shit…
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| (Record fades to close) |