| I’ve played in L.A. and D.C., Manhattan and Sydney
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| And Kingston, Jamaica where my Mandy was made
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| It’s 98 degrees in the straight-up shade
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| I say I’m stickin' with her for the rest of my given days
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| «Somebody told me that you’re takin' a break
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| A sabbatical from rhymin' on the records that you make
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| A little birdie said that wasn’t the case
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| They blamed your exodus on «DC"partners Kevin and Tait»
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| «Hold up, I didn’t say all that»
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| I wanna move the people on a hot summer’s day
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| I wanna serve up the Truth like it’s pink lemonade
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| So if you’re wonderin' why I Continue to try my Skills at this rap game
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| Girl, I can’t get enough
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| I been rockin' the black folks
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| And tellin' those white jokes
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| And people are people
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| So just throw your hands up If you’re wonderin' why I Continue to try my Skills at this rap game
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| Girl, I can’t get enough
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| I been rockin' the church folks
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| And tellin' those same jokes
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| So all of God’s people
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| Won’t ya throw your hands up
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| I’ve been away for some down time
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| But thought it was 'bout time
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| To give my freaky people what they came here for
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| I guess I needed some head space
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| And felt that by God’s grace
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| My homosapiens would still be up for some more
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| I’m talkin' God in my hip-hop
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| If not, then my show stops
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| And everyone around me knows I ain’t gonna sell -out
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| To those bad guys, they pushin' them white lies
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| Tweak the word freak and you’ll be airing tonight guys
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| I wanna move the people on a hot summer’s day
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| I wanna serve up the Truth like it’s pink lemonade
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| I wanna give my people what they can’t deny
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| I wanna light up the skies like the Fourth of July |