| I guess I’m not typical which is cool
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| I guess I’m not hip as you which is cool
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| I guess I’m not into the shit you’re into which is cool
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| Nigga you’s a bitch and your bitch a dude which is cool
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| I look around and all I see is fools
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| Some of y’all got street cred, some of y’all got pre-approved
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| Some of y’all got red carpet rolled out for y’all quick as you
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| Drop, went right from a Honda to a box 62
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| They dance and they ballin' and they zonin' like they Victor Cruz
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| Labels only care about hits and views which is cool
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| Not only am I the alchemist, I’m the evidence
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| The wicked witch is cool, the cause of her demise
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| Reminds me of this jet I’m in, a flyin' residence
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| If you don’t write your own rhymes get offended this is to you and you
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| Listen fool no more bars for you
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| You can’t raise the bar, you ain’t in the buildin'
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| Matter of fact you can’t even lift the stools, fool
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| That liquor disappear from my system like skippin' school
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| Me and these niggas live by the same don’ts but different do’s
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| To get they name out they willin' to get the lube
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| That Balmain fit me like my religion true
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| Call my assistant tell him I’m slippin', I’m spittin' jewels
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| Somebody come out and get them like them Memphis dudes
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| We independent, while y’all flash bitches
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| We in the trenches, ball sack lickin' addiction, y’all need interventions
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| The gas pedal mashin' the carpet in them SL Benzes
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| The dash retarded like the special olympics
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| The needle leanin' past the finish line like Lance Armstrong
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| I’m exotic smellin' like your baby momma vagina, bonfire island
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| A Creed Avensis
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| I’m not a killer I’m just stricken with a sickness called homicidalitis
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| Flat screens surrounds me and my dubs seat up in my whip
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| So she can read her twitter mentions in three dimensions
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| It’s no such thing as flossin' if you ain’t never seen a dentist
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| But some of y’all need to take them gold slugs out of your face
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| Load 'em in the pistol and shoot 'em the fuck into outer space
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| Maybe I ain’t rich as you which is cool
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| Maybe I ain’t weird as you which is cool
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| Maybe it ain’t a style to be lyrical
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| I don’t give a motherfuck, I just get your mother touched
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| I pick my own date, pay my way, call that double dutch
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| I grip the ass, I dump the tip, call that shit the double clutch
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| Wax on, wax off, clean that ugly stubble up
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| Bonsai, truth is gonna un-lie at sunrise
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| Your makeup’s running, Uber’s gonna catch you when it comes by
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| You boys are entertainment, I understand you like the bitch
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| But you are pretty famous, sweater like the one Cosby
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| Wore at his arraignment, uh, I stay patient
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| Pray gracious, made milli’s, while billi' racin'
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| Now they wanna trade places, as my ceiling raises
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| My prime lays dormant, they computerized, not I
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| See, I’m straight torrent, I clock in, write it with my pen, out my acorn
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| And then I clock out, and leave a black cloud on all eight corners
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| Started with us to hear the pop loud — Robin Harris' House Party
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| I bet y’all acquit it, like a child killing cop trial
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| All you see on the ground is an empty rock vials
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| Like Tommy Lee and Pam Anderson, I’m in the Trump Tower
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| With this here piece manners here, Magnum condom fit, like Juelz Santana
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| Bandana gear, I used to need antifreeze
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| She about to need antifrizz, antifrizz
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| I’m Pac and I’m Nas when I famed danced to anti big
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| I’m not a star, ho, I’m on Uranus on a pantie binge
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| Far as are as y’all aside, from flaming all of y’all
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| I feel like I fathered all of your bars, like I came up in your granny’s crib
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| The most interesting man, on the god damn planet
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| Beef is having a nigga’s bitch, fix me some god damn salmon
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| Beef is trying a nigga’s clothes on, when he ain’t home
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| Beef is your wife, when kids at school, texting me «They're gone»
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| I just took a dip in your swimming pool, which is cool
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| I think, you need to find some more comfortable slipper shoes, which is cool |