| Me and Slater just hit a curb,
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| Bunny hop, zoning out, listening to N.E.R.D,
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| Made a couple thousands turds spitting written verbs,
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| Shit, now I kick it in the 'burbs
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| Me? |
| I’m from the slums, niggas who pushing tons
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| Tons of drugs, Foul flow dirty mouth like kissing bums
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| Momma done made her one, a witty son
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| With no respect for women so-so, show me your titties hun
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| «You eighteen?», Me? |
| I’m twenty something
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| Okay I’m twenty, but I’m soon to be twenty-one
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| I wild out at shows, break shit it should be fun
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| Venues are like pussy with me, «Should he cum?»
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| I’mma wax that like the chapstick in my backpack, for my black lips
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| Then dip to Europe and come back with a stack of cheese
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| A stack of cheese for these rats, Mac and Cheese
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| New Preme shit got me feeling flyer than a bag of bees
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| Fuck critics, (How's your dick?), «Shit, How’s your knees?»
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| Y’all on my dick more than my index when I take a pee
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| Came up with «Rella», ain’t touch a bag of weed
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| Shit was doper than, Whitney Houston’s needs
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| Golf Wang, that’s the team to be, «Aye!», getting TU, OF NB
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| We was missing Sweatshirt like, where’s the hooded sleeve
|
| Okay, nevermind, we found him
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| Guess I win, checks started cashing in,
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| I stopped rapping and started asking «Where my fucking passion is?»,
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| Probably where that faggot went (Who?), Tyler talking father problems,
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| Shocky shit he spit to popping topics in a gossip column,
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| I ain’t ask for this, I did it out of boredom,
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| Thought that roach was cool, he died and pushed me into stardom,
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| Now Ye’s PJ sippin leche, Chips Ahoy! |
| boy, listening to Cowboy,
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| Aye boy, land in Melbourne and skate to Fitzroy (Aye!),
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| AUS was AWES, I enjoyed, boy, y’all niggas played as a tot’s toy,
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| Have a good day as I annoy, oi.
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| Cameras with panorama’s views
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| My shoes have seen more vans than Mexicanas with crackers in Alabama
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| G-O-to the-L-F, this O-F, I open a store so I don’t stress
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| But nigga I, (What?), mosh in gardens, jazz punk shit
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| Playing chords, making up shit, pardon my Dolly Parton’s
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| And I keep sharting, hoodies with rectangles and different colors
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| Niggers think I started kindergarten
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| My bitch was on my handle bars
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| (I just wanna ride my bike)
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| Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater
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| My bitch was on my handle bars
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| Hair blowing in the wind
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| Her freckles look like candy bars
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| Hair blowing in the wind
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| My bitch was on my handle bars
|
| (I just wanna ride my bike)
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| Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater
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| My bitch was on my handle bars
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| Hair blowing in the wind
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| Her freckles look like candy bars
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| My cool summer never ends
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| Slater, Slater, Slater, Slater
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| Oh my god. |
| I guess you’re a cool guy
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| You’re talking to a fucking bike, loser
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| (haha)
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| Oh… Fuck. |