| Look me in my eyes and tell me what you see
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| The eyes are the windows to the soul
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| My man is one of the greatest
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| Yeah, ayy
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| Wrote this one in the mountains out in Tennessee, a tin of tree
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| Attempt to kick the tens but I got tendencies, sins to beat and grins to seek
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| Passed out in the mountain top and skim the peak
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| How God playing the drums for a young nigga and I miss the beat, misery
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| Strapped with red and green like we feel Christmas-y, but it’s a beam
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| If he object to the tax then we just send a lien, and kiss the creek
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| My physical form recalled every lift of finger, hiss and creak
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| Kicked the beans but now, to a critic, I can’t be pissed to speak
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| Civilly, liberally, toe the gas, hear the Jeep spin and heave
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| My glick with me twenty-six, so it really don’t take shit to sneak
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| A meal can’t make those bitters sweet, start thinking 'bout love differently
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| Stop taking so much seriously, I’m taking all that’s given to me
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| Liquor pitcher clinkin', Henny drenching on my clearer speech
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| Stay away from my ear 'cause I don’t operate like peers can think
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| Chasing down a way but appearing only empirically
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| Attempt to replicate it, a waiting fate there to sneer at me
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| I talk sometimes just knowing my phone the only one listening
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| Advertise the digit app when I spend a bag
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| Advertise the fitted mag when I’m finna crash
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| Half the time at the virulence I just sit and laugh
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| If we ain’t here to spark the revolution, all our Siri’s can
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| Dope from the high sierra got my sclera like a jerry can
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| I was barely there, I barely dwell, I’m getting scared, I can’t
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| How we feel toward domestic terrorists? |
| Prepared for them
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| (One of the greatest) Ayy, I swear to you
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| Robert Horry already scored if you lost me
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| I just put my ho through college, Lori Laughlin
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| My mama ask me why I’m on my story coughing
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| 'Cause I’m a marksman, ayy
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| And perfect aim be exhausting, a game we can’t all win
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| Quick scan look like I’m scamming on the odds, but really I accepted randomness
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| of God
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| Shit, it is what it is, and it’s not what’s it’s not
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| Nigga try me like I’m pussy, he gon' get a surprise
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| They don’t know if I’m a rookie or if it’s a disguise
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| That lil' nigga know what he doing, you can see in his eyes
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| Shit, it is what it is, and it’s not what’s it’s not
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| A nigga try me like I’m pussy, he gon' get a surprise
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| They don’t know if a nigga rookie or if it’s a disguise
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| That lil' nigga know what he doing, you can see in his eyes
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| You can see in his eyes
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| Take a look at this
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| It’s highly theoretical
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| Theoretical? |
| Do I have to remind you that theory is a beginning solution? |