| Rastafari-ari
|
| Haile Selassie eye
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| Taj Mahal ghost limit us, oh
|
| Empress, oh
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| Ah when the church bell ring
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| And you hear the fat lady sing
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| Them shooters never ever try this again
|
| Man dead, we shot with fire
|
| No start no fling, no, oh
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| When the church bell ring
|
| And when the fat lady sing, oh, oh
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| Them shooters never mistaken
|
| Man dead, we shot with fire
|
| No start no fling, no, no, no, no, no
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| P too
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| Screamin' on the corner like a Hebrew Israelite
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| Frightened with the titans
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| Wolf thug love, niggas is likin' the lycan
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| Bullshit thugs get a knife to your Nike and
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| Pop your air bubble, yeah niggas don’t fear trouble
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| Uh, the men pop thirty
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| Off digital jam, the Hancock Herbie
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| Go, P, a thug in his essence
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| Fuck faggots, unrequited love is the message
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| Sean poppin' for the nation
|
| Or pay him, non-non-profit organization
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| Uh, I beat your ass for free
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| Then sip weed grass with Talib Kweli, P
|
| Oh, yes, sing
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| Ah when the church bell ring
|
| And you hear the fat lady sing
|
| Them shooters never ever try this again
|
| Man dead, we shot with fire
|
| No start no fling, no, oh
|
| When the church bell ring
|
| And when the fat lady sing, oh, oh
|
| Them shooters never never mistaken
|
| Man dead, we shot with fire
|
| No start no fling, no, no, no, no, no
|
| No, no, no, no
|
| Yo, uh, to whom it may concern
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| I’m not concerned with whatever this shit may concern
|
| My eighth burn in place, your ashes in the urn
|
| Compassionate with rappin', lot of action with the words
|
| I’m what you hope to be, vocally
|
| Socially a misfit, loco with the biscuit
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| Uh, cry ouch when I enter
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| My GemStar make your Goose fly for the winter
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| No fashion, a fad
|
| Drug traffickin', rappin', stashin' the smack in the cab
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| African-American, more American than African
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| Crackers wanna put me in the box and send me back with them
|
| Top five, I’m top gun
|
| Rappers all wack with the raps, but not son
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| Nigga, you fell for the knife’s slaughter, fool
|
| Sean cool, in Hell with ice water, P
|
| Ah when the church bell ring
|
| And you hear the fat lady sing
|
| Them know them shooters never mistaken
|
| Man dead, we shot with fire
|
| No start no fling
|
| Oh, when the church bell ring
|
| And when the fat lady sing
|
| Them shooters never mistaken
|
| Man dead, we shot with fire
|
| No start no fling, no
|
| Today we’re going to learn how to play the P Chord. |
| The first thing you wanna
|
| do is get your fingers in this position. |
| And if you lift your middle finger,
|
| it becomes a P Minor |