| Byron G!
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| I give a fuck who’s who
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| I chef the same when I’m preparing it
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| From bad kid to semi-rich middle-aged American
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| Rooted in my heritage, wounded for the derelicts
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| The root of every evil is the truth of all appearances
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| I crack the sound but the beat is still a barrier
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| And every fucking inch of every street around this area
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| The Venice carry us up like dough rises
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| Rap transit all city, no license
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| The city is beneath, I watch it from a bird’s eye
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| Brain dead, two left, they shot me in my third eye
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| Shot out my eye like a BB gun on Christmas day
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| Reach for pistols as I watch the fuckin' Pistons play
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| I set the tone with the writings on the wall
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| The city cleans it up like we inviting 'em all
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| Evolution’s all messed up now, chop the middleman
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| Stab the messenger, not the literal
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| I ran without a cause and was the best before I knew shit
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| Before I took a cruise ship, before I been to Houston
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| I ain’t tying up loose ends I let 'em waiver
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| Pulling out these lavers and pounding out the pavement
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| Gone
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| I’m the lyrical gangsta
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| I be a young motherfucker of the rap camp
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| Style symbolizes my nastiness like a tramp stamp
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| Wamp wamp, where it’s at
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| Fear fact, just let them legends die and I’ll inherit that
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| I’m fit for the carry, weight of the world I carry on my back
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| With a fairer sack, inquisitions to the mirror
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| Exactly what niggas fearing, see the future in it’s clearest
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| It is I, Doms, dropping lyrical pipe bombs
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| Until an icon, I choke your life like a python
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| I’m who the children look up, probably got 'em doing kush ups
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| Super high, call me Superfly, bitch I’m Jimmy Snuka
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| Got you feeling like you took a hit of heroin
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| And that’s for veterans, the way I bury 'em, embarrassing
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| You know better than puttin' that fire near the kerosine
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| I said don’t make me tell again like kids with speech impediments
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| They can’t see where my head is, I’m ahead
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| Roll the credits, roll the medics
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| Getting high till I feel I’m copacetic
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| Yo I’ve been trying to keep it silent, my tendency to violence
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| The suit and tie be fading, the truth about the shining
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| The sliding through the masses, smiling eyes through glasses
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| My style been altercated all the while to pile my cash in
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| But fuck that though, I want a ho that stay up late
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| My dirty bottom bitch to fuck with me until the wake
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| Mad illegal C.R.E.A.M, ain’t no rules, that’s the dream
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| In regal swimming pools prepping tools for future schemes
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| Laying low and creeping it, selling dope and sleeping it
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| Wrap the dough up in a rope, keep in what I’m sleeping in
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| Mattress fettucini, life’s a flick and I’m Fellini
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| Pinky diamond rings above the rims of ice martinis
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| Trees throughout the day, hour focused in a haze
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| We living life the most, been comatosed all the way
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| The toast to hell that may, cause making bread legit’s too real
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| So I’m folding on the stress of life to steal to catch a meal |