| Jogging my memory, the Documentary
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| Killed that in a drop top John Kennedy
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| Had the rap game in fear, like it was ten of me
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| The old me ain’t got shit on what I’m finna be
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| Nigga I’m finna be still repping the letter B
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| What if it was the nigga that Dre signed instead of me?
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| Would I be starving or studying at Harvard
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| Or would I be a dog of a another fuckin' pedigree
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| Take away me, take away the su-woo
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| Take away the gangstar like hip-hop did Guru
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| Pull up in that new coupe
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| Take away your girl run her choo choo
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| Then put it on Worldstar, or Youtube
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| Yo Tune' what it do
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| Got some bitches in the lobby and I’m 'bout to send them through
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| I’m Kobes rings nigga who the fuck is you
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| Not the nigga with five bitches sitting in the coupe
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| Five, got Jacksons in my pocket and I’m feelin' like a Jackson
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| Five, I’m ballin', ya I’m ballin', got me feelin' like I’m in the Fab 5
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| For as long as I live I will rep for five
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| Like MJ in game five
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| I got five on it
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| Five short, Young Tune in this bitch fuck 5−0
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| Nickel plated 4−5 if I have an issue
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| Beat your ass black and blue with a bag of nickels
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| I’m a G, do somethin 'bout it
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| You ain’t half of me, you ain’t 500 dollars, nigga
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| And my red bone, 5−5
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| No hand slapped, but I’m high five
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| Yeah get with the game or play the sidelines
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| I dream to get the cover of High Times
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| Now take 5 paces
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| And try to guess the color of my shoelaces, red, bitch
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| Yeah, I’m on my high horse
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| Now the sky mad at me cause I stole five stars
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| Got some freaks in the living room gettin' it on
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| And they ain’t leavin' til five in the morn'
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| (yeah)Young Tunechi, bitch!
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| I deserve to be top five |