| No agenda like the present
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| How I presently be speaking
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| Ain’t no wind in my direction
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| Where I put its where I put it
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| See its sitting where I left it
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| Got em' thinking loaded dice
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| How I’m sitting out here betting
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| If you in you know the price is
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| Good enough to not forget us
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| I come in they lower lights and
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| Send the one to where I’m stepping
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| If you in you know the type and
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| Everything that y’all expecting
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| Half '94 Nas
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| Half '97 Betha
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| Write dirty
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| Dress clean
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| Eat good
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| Travel better
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| Please women like we’re married and
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| Rep The Wire forever
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| Buy cars all cash
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| No lease
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| No payments
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| Keep a Chris and a Snoop in close reach for arrangements
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| Keep a lawyer in the phone
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| Stash money for retainers
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| And my lawyer kinda bad
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| She’ll fuck up an arraignment
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| Thank God only thing I have to call her for is contracts
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| Thank Him at His crib and then get back to where they toss at
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| For my fulfillment
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| Filling up a glass
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| While I’m filling up a wallet
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| And the feelings that’s attached
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| Got me feeling like I got it
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| And this feeling if you ask
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| Is a feeling saying «we about it now» lets get it (ahh)
|
| For my fulfillment
|
| Filling up a glass
|
| While I’m filling up a wallet
|
| And the feelings that’s attached
|
| Got me feeling like I got it
|
| And this feeling if you ask
|
| Is a feeling saying «we about it now» lets get it (ahh)
|
| Word to being related to Sandra
|
| But still dealings with bands
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| That be dealing with contra
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| I’m still giving the plans
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| To be in with that rasta
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| But I’m just trying to live in this mantra
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| And they made me the author
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| And I’m trying to count something and loft us
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| With spare closets for Nia Long’s stuff
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| I still got plans
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| My dribble stupid
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| Yea I still got hands
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| And my corner is gentrified
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| But they still got vans
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| And cameras up on the light post
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| That blink if the light broke
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| And fully loaded’s will roll up
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| And sing you the right notes
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| The song playing while you waiting trying to get a hand
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| Ducking in the elevator
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| «How I Could Just Kill A Man»
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| Q shit
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| Juice shit
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| Bishop off the roof shit
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| Singing Sky you got the juice now
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| So you sip
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| But it’s all for Justine
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| And brownstones in Brooklyn Heights
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| And all we want is keys |