| One. |
| I’m tripping literally, I should be dish washing
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| 'Cause I got bowlegged knees and often they be crossing
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| Go ahead and ask my bosses, they’ll tell you that I’m clumsy
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| I’ll probably fall into your fist so you don’t have to punch me.
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| Two. |
| I’m vegetarian so I don’t want no beef
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| You floss expensive jewelry, I floss my crooked teeth
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| I sing in church choir, my daddy is a reverend
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| I tried to be a gangsta but my curfew was eleven
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| Three. |
| I drive my Vespa through the streets and wear my helmet proud
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| I do my homework every night then come to this rowdy crowd
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| I signed up for the battle, filled in all the basics
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| But when they saw it was me, they put me on the wait list
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| Four. |
| I run from bullies in the streets, I don’t know how to fight
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| I don’t throw lefts or rights I just left and sprinted right
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| I’m skinny, all scrawny arms and a tiny chest
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| Shoot I could hide behind that pole if I just hold my breath
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| Five. |
| My apron looks like a dress
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| I should twirl around like a pretty princess,
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| I’m not a busboy, I’m a waitress |
| But I can’t get the drink right, taste test
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| Let me buy another round for your guests
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| My hand got sweaty and I lost my grip
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| My shoes don’t fit, they hand me down
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| From the Salvation Army right downtown
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| When I walk into the room, the lights go down
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| I’m so ugly, mom won’t hug me And that’s ten better disses than you
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| I beat myself, something you couldn’t do |