| Rainy days seem to be my favorite sometimes
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| The flavor of sunshine, can savor its fun time and fun rhymes
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| This is serious shit
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| Lucy Ricardo scheming on a delirious tip
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| Ya, I hold a rag but not to bang
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| I use it to hold all of the hair out of my face
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| And without pulling out my fangs, I talk the talk
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| And if its mano y mano, I walk the walk
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| Tagging ignorance all over the street and blot the dot
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| Everyday I narrate my own book
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| I take the bus and smile, keep my eyes peeled
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| So I don’t get my phone took
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| Peep with the people around me with no detect
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| Surface and windows scribed with hieroglyphics to inspect
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| Better yet, I’ll hop the next stop
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| Acting very characteristic as I pull into my plot
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| Cause the cameras never turn off, on this indie film
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| And most of us will never understand how Whitney felt
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| Cause everyday, I’m letting the world pass me by
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| Chilling in my own stance, doing my own dance
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| I’m my own man. |
| Minutes sitting on the time clock
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| I’m not concerned until my time stops
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| My mind is never to be changed, without sense
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| And no debt, I occupy my block with no rent
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| My flow went, like a tsunami stream
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| Brothers art acting like they were hardly a team
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| I’m sorry to see deceased fall apart from the knees
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| A hardly acheived steez when you part of the fleas
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| I’m oddly at ease, different in my own skin
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| Vision black and white, pictureesque like an old film
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| I’m chopping away at the trees that are blocking me
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| I’ll smoke the leaves and use the limbs to build property
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| And honestly, I’ve never felt more connected to roots
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| Rather act like myself than be excepted by dudes
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| Cause who are we to be acting something other than you
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| And who is me to act like I ain’t puzzling, too
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| But guzzling juice, ain’t always how it has to be
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| I’m living in my rhapsody, forget the ever afterly
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| Cause everyday, I’m letting the world pass me by
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| Chilling in my own stance, doing my own dance
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| I’m my own man. |
| Minutes sitting on the time clock
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| I’m not concerned until my time stops |