| Shoot…
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| Trust the fuckin' shooter
|
| Being feared goes farther than any part of me having respect does
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| So I play to the tune of my own eardrum
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| While I’m out on my quest, love
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| I don’t speak on behalf of myself, but my impeccable rep does
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| Christmas morning I remember waking up wishin' I could just go to sleep
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| Cause we only got like two toys a piece
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| I ask my pops did he do more for me?
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| He said «yes, I got you clothes and heat
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| And let you keep a whole two rows of teeth»
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| Ha, I’m royalty
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| I took whoopin’s, I took losses, but no defeats
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| Been dropped, and been shelved with no release
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| Been in jail, no commissary or relief
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| But God looks over me like a cross and rosary
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| Rifle in hand, I let niggas have it, I won’t hesitate
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| Writes on the cans in the cabinet «section eight»
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| My son got on them three-fifty boots Kanye West is dressed in bape
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| Askin' me questions 'bout gettin' to second base
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| Uhh, wifey textin' SMH, house phone ringin' off the hook
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| Conference calls from record labels, guess I’m late
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| But, my other son’s autistic, he wants my attention
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| This might just be my defining moment, let them wait
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| It’s my time now, nigga; |
| let them wait
|
| Pick up the phone, tell 'em hold; |
| let them wait
|
| Old friends comin' to they senses tryna' reconcile
|
| After I fell out with them, well fuck them niggas; |
| let them wait
|
| Wait, I’m here for that green, for that mula
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| You scheme, I see right through ya
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| I’m regal like a Akeem, father King of Zamunda
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| One thing’s for sure I think they do know
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| That me, and Porter, and Jake Uno
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| We don’t play no games, no, we play sumo
|
| We attempt to flatten into action
|
| With all these average, flacid defenseless rappers
|
| I have no problem killing like sent assassins
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| They temper’s bad when my temper’s graphic
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| They hide or they fly while I’m high and flyer
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| I’m intergalactic, I’ve been spectacular
|
| Flippin' like I invented spatulas, my lyrics is futuristic
|
| I’m in here with my vintage ratchet with prints and scratches
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| My mental action-ly incapacitates fast as my passion
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| And pen surpasses my Aston
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| And leave a skid road in the street like I’m into smackin'
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| I fill my engine with acid
|
| With my finger wrapped around a hair-trigger that resembles lashes
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| I get into bitches quick and then I get distracted
|
| I’m like the stock market, just like that, my interest crashes
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| Like a cymbal, my symbol should be expensive glasses
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| She with me, she a afro-centric nympho chick with a ass did
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| She callin' me back-to-back for a second date
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| While my ex is callin' for make-up-dick. |
| let them wait
|
| Money all over the ground like Scotty from New Jack City, I weapon wave
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| Everybody, step away
|
| They said that we should go our separate ways, in high school
|
| Now they wanna jump the line in my shows. |
| let them wait
|
| My whole life, they pressured me. |
| let them wait
|
| You rushin' me you rushin' excellence. |
| let them wait
|
| Police in my rear-view mirror with they sirens on
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| But I’m a call my lawyer first 'fore I pull over. |
| let them wait
|
| It’s my time now, nigga, let them wait
|
| Pick up the phone, tell them hold, let them wait
|
| Old friends comin' to they senses tryna' reconcile
|
| After I fell out with them, well fuck them niggas; |
| let them wait |