| Who I be is the super MC, run up on a group of MCs
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| Rappin' all rudimentary, like stupid MD
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| Head of Valley girls full of jealousy
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| But I see through the envy
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| I be shootin' for the stars, never shootin' the breeze
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| When you chase what you want, you run past what you need
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| Hear the call of the Lord, start fallin' to your knees
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| And the families be immortal like the dew on the leaves
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| Yup, every rhyme got a reason
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| You need me like your mama need Jesus
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| Murder rap from the words that I rap
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| Treatin' rappers like celebrity news, got 'em leakin'
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| Malcolm said I may complain so the deep shit
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| Is spoon fed to you with the flow if you’re peepin'
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| So wavy with the flow, got 'em seasick
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| Acquirin' miles, wanna know what’s the secret
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| They all devil warship except the reverend
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| You keep makin' that excuse but remember this
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| You feel better 'bout your own failure
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| When you think success is based on Illuminati membership
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| Fuck the money, that’s my new fuckin' attitude
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| This the Earth, wind and fire, this gratitude
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| Whether in paradise or ghetto avenues
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| I stay inspired by my longitude and latitude
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| Recordin' in the rainforest in Puerto Rico
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| Climbin' up the Dust River Falls in Ocean Rio
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| Joey made this beat in the Trump Tower
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| Fire like gunpowder, finna light it up cause the blunt’s sour
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| Revolutionary People’s Party
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| Evolutionary, we so godly
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| Still at the strip club with Nico
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| When he pull his hair back, we call him Nico Suave
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| We the people’s champ like my top of the year tour
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| From K Valentine to jessica Care moore
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| Nico Is to fuckin' with Cory Mo
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| GQ, Rapsody to Hi-Lo
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| This the good ship, Jamla the damn squad
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| Colors of the color to toast in the dancehall
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| They call me the solution to problem I can’t solve
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| So get off that bullshit and get on your damn job
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| Get on your job, nigga
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| Get on your job, nigga
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| Get on your job, nigga
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| Come on
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| We be workin' damn hard
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| We pullin' the damn cards like you’re puttin' your hands up
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| We’re stand up individuals
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| Fuck respectability, we ain’t pullin' our pants up
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| We plugged in the lamppost, never duckin' no damn folks
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| We ain’t bucking like Sambo’s, to fuck with our damn clothes
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| Hoes fascinated by the fashion statement
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| Yet you masqueradin' as a rap crusader
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| I know you a hater, player
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| I’m concentrated on the facts and data
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| That-a-way I’ve been my favorite
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| 'Til there’s no debatin' who’s the greatest rapper
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| Always ready for the battle, no fear factor
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| RIP PH, we shed a tear after hearin' that we lost a gladiator
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| What a real rapper
|
| Spittin' bars in the cypher in the hereafter
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| I’m in artist mode
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| Writer then before, I’m a writer at the core
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| But let me get it off on stage and I prove
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| That I’m tighter than a moor, invite him to the war
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| The truth about trust is
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| We motivated by the rewards, no one’s above this
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| So by that logic we’re monsters in the makin'
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| And seekin' justice is really some persevation
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| You don’t trust what you can’t see?
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| You don’t trust what you can’t touch?
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| Then how do you explain love?
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| You don’t trust what you can’t see?
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| You don’t trust what you can’t touch?
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| Then how do you explain love?
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| Quem quis me ferir
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| Ficou assim
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| Não aprendeu perdoar… |