| Ayo pardon my troop starving for shark fin soup with jargon to boot
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| In a secret garden astute
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| Starting with the part in his toup (short for toupee)
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| And the carton of goop
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| Getting down to the root
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| Doppel reeking like shit
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| Beeper on the hip dip to Central Islip
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| Visa for your trip, anesthesia for that slit
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| Pick and choose how you want to
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| Dopp sing the blues unenthused by the genre
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| A cloaked out prima donna
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| Hitting up Daygo then to Tijuana
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| Pale with a stance thats ill
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| Went to jail for selling a male enhancement pill
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| Notice from a glance that his pants are twill
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| Looking for romance but the chance is nil
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| Yo Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo Yo What Am I
|
| Yo he afraid that the answer isn’t cut and dry
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| No draws with the wide open button fly
|
| A glutton stealing the last piece of mutton pie
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| There’s always something to deny
|
| A lady of the night said he’s known to bust a nut and cry
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| No lie he was itching at his stye
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| He known to change his story up switching alibis
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| In the kitchen with my nigga Malechi
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| Damn kid we in dire need
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| We both responsible to feed a whole entire creed
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| And all we got is some papaya seeds and Jeremiah Weed
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| Most of his attire’s tweed
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| Down to put in work like a horse of the shire breed
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| By necessity instead of greed
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| At the renaissance fair nigga down to steal a squire’s mead
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| Yo Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I
|
| Yo What Am I
|
| What Am I |