| Let’s roll out
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| Talkin' 'bout, when I’m gonna raise the sails? |
| (Hoist that bitch)
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| Man, I’m 'bout to start ballin', for real
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| My vacation 'bout to start, I can’t post none of this shit
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| It’s too much ballin'
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| Uh, pull the Lamborghini machines up on the double
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| I’ll make a youngin pull his jeans up
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| Tuck in his shirt and get 'em cleaned up (C'mere, c’mere)
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| Fold the crease in his chinos and have 'em steamed up
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| I was solo then I teamed up (What up?)
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| Now I’m pushin' buttons like Scotty when beamed up
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| The unidentified flyin' object defyin' logic
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| I’ll ride a pocket 'til my body rotten
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| More gone and forgotten, so many sons I put a couple up for adoption
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| 'Til then for me to stop is not an option
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| Spillin' the clicker on the yacht while it was dockin'
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| Caught me slippin' with no socks, in my moccasins
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| I’m like your favorite fruit when it’s in season, I been sneezin'
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| Roll down the tint, I need my skin to the wind breezin'
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| I need to feel the sun on my skin' beamin'
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| Drownin' my thoughts, scratchin' the whiskers on my chin region
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| —gets mad or over-dramatic, it’s shitty
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| You’re drinking when you’re writing?
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| I never said I came to re-invent the wheel
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| But I don’t roll with the squares, it’s blockin' out a nigga skill
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| Posted in my pajamas in my Hugh Hef
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| Pavin' the way, see, I can show y’all a new step
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| Or take it to the head like Russian Roulette and gamble thoughts
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| The cost crossed 'em off and thrown like a lacrosse toss
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| Shit, I’m slumped on the throne like a drunken boss
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| Sittin' on the wave still, supplier’s an albatross
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| I need space like astronauts
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| Astronomically high, watchin' the stars crash a lot
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| I’m a doctor, but I’m not Cliff Huxtable
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| I got a sandwich and my feet up on the couch, I’m comfortable
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| There’s no sacks in the hush, I get it plush
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| Crush your luck, bag it up just to feel the rush
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| Now that’s a bad jewelry heist, the way I’m droppin' gems
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| Zeitgeist trim, precise, my advice is win (C'mon)
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| I need to feel the light breeze from the slightest wind
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| The gang’s 'bout to light 'em again (Go and let 'em in), yeah
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| Go on, let 'em in
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| We know the air is unfit to breathe
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| Our food is unfit to eat
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| We sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had
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| fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes
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| As if that’s the way it’s supposed to be
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| We know things are bad, worse than bad, they’re crazy
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| It’s like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don’t go out anymore
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| We sit in the house
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| And slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller
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| And all we say is
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| «Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms
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| Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials»
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| No storm can last forever
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual
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| Which is very unusual |