| Dreamin' like I ain’t livin' one
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| She ain’t have nothin' to say at all
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| But a promise is a promise, and I told her last week
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| When she hit me, I would pick up my phone
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| Nothin' worse then bein' alone and feelin' alone
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| I know that I should call back, but let’s face facts
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| I don’t really feel like arguin', I be out partyin'
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| Road been good to me, good to me
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| I know nothin' lasts forever, but this feel like life
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| I used to love when she check on me, check on me
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| But nowadays phone calls ain’t so black and white
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| «See, I don’t know who that bitch is in the background
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| I don’t know when I’ll make it back to the hotel»
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| Most of our conversations don’t end well
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| She say she been fine, but I can never tell
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| 'Cause I’m never home
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| «There ain’t no reason to be, to be havin' to call you six, seven hundred times
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| (I'm never home) in a fuckin' minute because you’re screening my calls.
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| My nigga, like what are we doing (I'm never home), for real? |
| We just gonna
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| play this game? |
| Like let’s stop fuckin' playin' games, like I’m not…
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| You know what? |
| (I'm never home) I am not goin' to get out of my positive mode
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| that I’ve been on, you know what I’m sayin'?»
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| I’ve been in in the Bay for a few days
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| The money locomotive don’t stop 'cause she lose her top
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| And Top workin' me like my nickname Kunta
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| New slave, stay up in the lab on a new wave
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| I don’t need nobody fuckin' up my concentration
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| Lately I’ve been contemplatin' givin' her some space
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| I’m tryin' not to lose my patience
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| But if we was in a race, we’d be headin' for the finish line
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| She put me in a mood when I’m feelin' fine
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| She keeps sayin' I need to just say what she think I’m thinkin'
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| She’ll get out my way, see our chain ain’t linkin'
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| No, our bob ain’t weavin', shit, our pop ain’t lockin'
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| I’m all for boxin', but this fight ain’t stoppin'
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| She don’t wanna spaz, but she running out of gas
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| I’m tryna make it last, but why should we do that
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| When I’m never home
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| «If you have a problem, to talk to me, I’m your woman. |
| We’re not kids (I'm
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| never home). |
| Don’t — mind you, we’re grown. |
| I’m not gonna be callin' you seven
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| hundred times a day (I'm never home). |
| This shit is for the birds.
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| This whole-, this whole thing, honestly, to like- like to be high key honest,
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| (I'm never home) is not fuckin' workin' because I can’t even get through
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| twenty minutes. |
| Like, I’m tired of it. |
| I can’t do this shit no more,
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| so you figure out what you’re goin' to do because I know what I’m gonna do,
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| and I’m gonna stop leavin' this fuckin' voicemail because you got me fucked up. |