| From the top, from the top, from the top, from the top
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| From the top, from the top, from the top, from the top
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| In a state of grace
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| Where the talent is surrounded by the pain and the violence
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| So the selling never safe
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| At the same time snitching to the Jake
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| Is the quickest way to get found at the bottom of a lake
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| But the problem we face seems so great
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| That we can’t escape so we accept our fate
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| So the sex and the money and the murder are the pictures we paint
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| If an artist is a part of a community
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| And got an opportunity to get that cake
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| Would never come back to the hood, no immunity
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| Usually a nigga like that so fake, no different from a snake
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| Nothing left to give cause you always wanna take
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| If you ain’t using all the talents God provided you with
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| For the betterment of man, understand you ain’t nothing but a waste
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| Look into the face of a young girl
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| Raising up like a flag when it’s unfurled
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| Got game listening to her mother’s pearls
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| And she love Beyonce cause she run the world
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| Her mama used to run this city
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| Way back before the nigga Puff was Diddy
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| When it came to the music then she got real picky
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| From New York, but preferred 2Pac over Biggie
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| No disrespect to Ms. Wallace, but she liked to do the knowledge
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| And she felt that Pac was more lyrical
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| Plus she never went to college
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| But she called herself 'Earth' found rhythm with the gods more spiritual
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| She God in the physical
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| And it’s only natural to pray for a little you
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| Musical so she played the umbilical chords
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| So her daughter was born it was a miracle
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| Music is the light when it’s dark
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| And the way that you spit your dart is a big part
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| She grew up loving hip hop
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| Now all her daughter got is «Love & Hip Hop»
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| Nowadays niggas turn up for the sex
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| Niggas turn up for the money, never turn up for the movement
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| Ratchet reality stars that be looking so stupid
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| Getting in the fights at reunions
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| She used to be inspired by the writers, now she’s tired of the biters
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| No desire for the lying and the violence
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| That’s inflicted on the body in a so-called party environment
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| Her body is politics
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| Lost count of how many whores she was called today
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| She won’t do it no more, lost all her faith
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| They say she exaggerate when she hollerate
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| But it’s only so much she can tolerate
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| Help me find my way to a state of grace
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| Stir my heart, touch my soul
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| Feed me freedom sounds you made
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| Help me find my way to a state of grace
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| Lift me up with your weight
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| Pull me to the grace
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| She wanna to be the first in her family with a higher education
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| Her entire graduation was a dire situation
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| Did a paper on the state of the hip hop generation
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| But no longer felt a part of the conversation
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| Used to be I’m a ''ride or die'' chick
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| B.I.G. |
| with the ''Me And My Bitch''
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| No objections, being an object, major label seeing a profit
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| She ain’t never been a bitch or a ho
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| But she used to sing along when she heard it in a song
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| She used to be front row at the shows 'til she overdosed on the testosterone
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| Her favorite rapper invited her backstage would have stayed
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| But she felt like she really ain’t belong
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| When she wouldn’t let him hit, this nigga called her a bitch
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| She erased all her songs from the phone
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| You are who you fuck with, so the guy that she stuck with
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| You can bump it or dump it, the artist she trusted
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| Just broke her heart, so misogynistic and disgusting
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| She tried not to judge him, in her heart she still loved him
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| And the way that he lusting, a part of his suffering
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| And this young man, clearly not ready for the harder discussion
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| Female emcees acting more like a dude than a dude do, only if you knew
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| I know a few who flow crazier than if you flew over the nest of the cuckoo
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| But she never gonna hear them in the mix so the new attitude
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| Taking cues from the radio playing that doodoo
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| She on D’Angelo Pandora station playing that Voodoo, who knew?
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| In the face of hate
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| She’d be lucky for a balance cause the world is challenging her to be great
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| I see lyrics as colors and shapes
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| Put it on tape, let her know I could relate
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| When you wish you could switch the way that you look |
| And your nose was smaller and your hair was straight
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| When you got no faith
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| When you hate yourself, when you hate your race
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| Let’s get to the core
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| Our sisters worth more than grinding on the wall half-naked
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| She a bitch, she a whore
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| And you rich and you shit on the poor
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| In all of your records and ask 'em to buy it
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| Why should I support music that constantly disrespects me?
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| And make you dismissive of the efforts of those who get left
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| With the charge of repping it correctly
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| When it’s free online or in a cloud
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| Ain’t no reason to touch the radio dial
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| You wonder why you don’t hear no sounds on the air
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| And it’s clear that your sales going down
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| Down by law then you found the raw
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| On a message board and you sounding off
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| These niggas get the whole world, but what’s the cause?
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| No wonder why these niggas be sounding lost
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| Rhyming is a memory
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| The assembly line rap niggas is designed by the enemy
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| Stop giving them your soul, gift wrap
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| Prepackaged, fabricated shit rap
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| Running through you like fast food — Big Mac’s
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| You don’t want no problems, fix that
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| All the time that you spent listening to that bullshit
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| Now you ain’t never gon' get back
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| She don’t love it, no
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| She don’t love it no more |