| Heheahahaha, uhh
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| Yeah? |
| Yeah
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| Yo, feast your eyes, two double oh-five
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| While two double oh-six is here
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| My energy be for all to accept and hear
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| I’m not ashamed for the ten years plus in that game, won’t refrain
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| O.C., speak my mind cause I ain’t no lame
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| Never defendin, creates my own lane
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| Long live the saga, with a clear slate clear head these days
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| Works for hire, possible if I’m prepaid
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| Welcome me back, give a toast to my libido flow
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| Similar to sex spurnt from my urethra
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| Friction, give off heat like a fever
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| Good lucks for those who wish, I don’t need it
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| Much to my amazement, or should I say that I’m not surprised
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| I still reside in the basement
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| Wits and charm is what bless this tongue
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| Along with the mind state for me to write these songs
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| Uhh
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| No pain, no gain, no guts, no glory
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| This ain’t another war story, this is trill
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| My heart, my brain got the will to survive
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| In my shoes, you wouldn’t make it out alive, no
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| These young rappers in the game ain’t got nuttin for me
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| This ain’t another war story, this is trill
|
| My heart, my brain got the will to survive
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| In my shoes, you wouldn’t make it out alive, no
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| Dead in the middle of Germany, puffin herbally
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| Observe me as I absurdably murder beats verbally to the third degree
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| I ain’t no nerd or freak, I’m the word, the streak
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| That works Shareef, peace, nice to meet
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| I need a, mic to eat, a track to bash
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| Your shit is wack, it’s trash, I just have to ask
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| You just playin right? |
| You can’t be tryin
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| I’ll blow you the fuck away like a dandelion
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| Be a man c’mon now, you can’t be cryin
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| My next album six figures or I shan’t be signin
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| I’m so independent I’ll GO independent
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| Get dough independent, I SMOKE independents
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| The most mentally ill, so gifted and real, the spit that can kill
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| Pick up the mic it’s like I lift up the steel
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| Aim it at your temple, now how that feel?
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| It hurts like a motherfucker don’t it? |
| Now bow down and kneel
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| No pain, no gain, no guts, no glory
|
| This ain’t another war story, this is trill
|
| My heart, my brain got the will to survive
|
| In my shoes, you wouldn’t make it out alive, no
|
| These young rappers in the game ain’t got nuttin for me
|
| This ain’t another war story, this is trill
|
| My heart, my brain got the will to survive
|
| In my shoes, you wouldn’t make it out alive, no
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| Look, yo
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| Man I’m back for it, it’s the black poet
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| Sit down spit rhymes just to get the stacks flowin
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| You cats ain’t knowin, man I’m back for revenge
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| The real shit, never had to pretend
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| Shatter your shins, nigga go and gather your ends
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| Call your friends, forgivin you for all your sins
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| It all begins, right here, makin it quite clear
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| It’s twenty-oh-six, make sure it’s the right year
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| To your right ear, or your left lobe
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| Still swingin hard, then watch a nigga’s chest fold
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| Get this dress code, I spit the best flows
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| No cat better than Ras to stack cheddar
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| You all falsetto with no bass and no taste
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| Bring it to you live at sunrise at yo' place
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| I give 'em no space, we on a dough chase
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| Niggas can’t get it cause they movin at a slow pace
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| No pain, no gain, no guts, no glory
|
| This ain’t another war story, this is trill
|
| My heart, my brain got the will to survive
|
| In my shoes, you wouldn’t make it out alive, no
|
| These young rappers in the game ain’t got nuttin for me
|
| This ain’t another war story, this is trill
|
| My heart, my brain got the will to survive
|
| In my shoes, you wouldn’t make it out alive, no
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| Yeah, Dick Swan in the building
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| Snowgoons, live |