| Crabs in a bucket
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| Wanna see you at the bottom, don’t you love it?
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| When they’re hatin' so you hit 'em with the encore
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| Sendin' shots but you at the top floor
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| Let 'em pop shit, give me some drums to go pop with
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| Need white women at the shows unconscious
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| If not that then topless, earned all this
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| Get with that or get in the moshpit
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| Where’s your moxie? |
| Ain’t you from Poppy?
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| Young man, you not actin' too cocky
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| Prolly 'cause I’m feelin' like the world gon' crash
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| Read a hundred somethin' on the E-class dash
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| If I’m feelin' funny, guaranteed gon' flash
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| Cock back, blast, put 'em in a bag
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| Prolly gon' regret it in the retrospect
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| Got a lot of problems I ain’t let go yet
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| Spend a lot of money on the CDG
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| Ain’t I lookin' lovely on the TV screen?
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| Battle with the white man day by day
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| Feds takin' pictures doin' play by play
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| They don’t ever want to see the black man eat
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| Nails in the black man’s hands and feet
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| Put him on a cross so we put him on a chain
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| Lying to me, sayin' he don’t look like me
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| Rollcage on the GT3
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| How a show on stage like a DVD?
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| Put me in the MoMA when it’s over with
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| I used to look up to the sky, now I’m over shit
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| Remember that I still got you
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| I still got you here
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| It’s rare they’d come across you?
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| I kept you hidden in my head
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| Drowning in my own ocean
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| I forgot to care
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| And you can drop the anchor, baby
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| I know what’s under there
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| It never really crossed my mind to think
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| Maybe you’d avert your glance at me?
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| Ever really cross your mind
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| Ever really cross your mind
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| I ain’t never had no chance to breathe |