| «Don't make me suffer guide me
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| Guide me baby to my friends and oooh»
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| I bet a rapper say «uncle»
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| Cousin and twisting his arm, wasn’t a struggle
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| A hater make my day like Eastwood
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| But we good cause I’m busy frying Moby Dick
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| No sense crying over milk spilt
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| Yeah, a 16 assassin
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| Oswald on the pad with the pen doing it rapping
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| If we happen to cross paths
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| You better hope a fork leads the other way away from me
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| Cause I brought forks
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| I’m on the porch celebrating
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| Getting elevated
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| That ain’t lemonade
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| Something heavyweight and medicated
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| Each verse dedicated to a hater thought I’d never make it
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| Make him take it back
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| Eat words, alphabet soup
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| Used to press my own discs up, tried to recoup
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| Slang 'em two for one outside of my stoup
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| As soon as ten moved, I headed to the top of the flat
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| On the roof I’m blowing smoke rings from skunk weed outside of a loop
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| You better give me
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| «Sweet love»
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| Yeah, that’s what you better give me
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| Hate on me and your homie start pouring out the Henny
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| Better show me
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| «Sweet love»
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| Or I’ma show you what I’ve been through
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| All my pain and suffering, something we could get into
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| Give me
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| «Sweet love»
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| Or I’ma give you hate right back
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| Bottle to the face, have a night cap
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| You know what I need
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| «Sweet love»
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| Yeah, blow a rapper kisses
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| Handshakes and pounds, not disses
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| Now tell me why the bartender’s giving me free drinks
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| And yet he’s taxing you a dollar for that water out that sink
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| Cause we got that shit locked and we got that hip hop
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| That gets props
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| Doing everything your shit’s not
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| That dude that talks the most ain’t really doing shit
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| That’s why I’m sitting at a show alone instead of moving lips
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| You rappers sucking blogger dicks
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| I’m chilling with some journalists watching you perform and talking shit
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| So let me give you a bit of critical analysis
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| That way you hold that microphone is on some phallic shit
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| That malice grip you got is known for causing calluses
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| That way you clutching on that tip is looking hazardous
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| And you’re not packing shit, the club or a gun
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| Don’t give a fuck about your crew a fuck where you’re from
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| Sit your angry ass down and let me show you
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| Uh, how to make the crowd get to know you
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| Motherfucker what’s up? |