| Uh, uh, uh, uh
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| You gotta redefine print, examine the details
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| Cut the nonsense, some handling retail
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| And you can get rich, and end up like Ezell
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| Strung out on drugs, with nothing to prevail
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| I’m trying to get the m’s like Brandon Kane
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| We into finer things
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| Rings, watches, and designer chains
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| Try to put you on connect, but I’m out of range
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| Getting green thumbs counting checks for my hunger pains
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| Nowadays like we living in The Hunger Games
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| So I’m pondering my thoughts, thinking of the Mother plane
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| Just wait until my next tape drop, for when the market crash, I got a lot of
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| skate plots
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| Can never understand why they hating', take shots
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| I executed plans in the artist straight drop
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| I keep precious medals laying on my shoulder blades
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| Stepping out the BM like I’m coming out the golden age
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| Fly comets while I’m surfing in the nebulon
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| In these times of chaos, watch it for the Decepticons
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| In everything we do is upper echelon
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| Guess that’s why they bite the style like the Megalodon
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| Still young but they label me a veteran
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| Far from the days of me trapping at the Chevron
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| I’m on a telethon, encore carry on
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| You a sophomore and I’m a senior in this marathon
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| I got handles like hot sauce, I blew a bag on the hot sauce, cause I don’t like
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| knock offs
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| And if the weather right, I’ma let the top off
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| The streets for metal rain, God forbid it pop off, pop off
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| Hit my dog Mach for the drop off
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| Homie art dealer like a dealer getting rocks off
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| Wood scars and graffiti on the canvas
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| Everything omitted is inscribed in mathematics
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| Peep the status, I ran with street democratics
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| The school of hard bank and on the door of Illmatic
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| Ain’t no one never going to stay in one spot forever
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| That’s a sucker
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| I’m a hustler
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| I’m a come up
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| So I took what little bit he gave me
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| And doubled up, and doubled up, and doubled up
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| And I’ve been doubling since |