| Time to clock in, baby
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| Yeah
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| You ready?
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| Yes, I was ready last time
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| We gon' call this «The Intro About Nothing.»
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| It’s gon' go like this:
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| Oh oh
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| Oh oh no no
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| Lord, my all, what you think of it?
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| Been on this long road accumulating luggage
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| As time proceeds, preoccupied with everything
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| I think it’s 'bout time I sing of nothing
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| Sipping wine, sipping wine, cause my Henny finished
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| Hard to be friendly with women who’ve seen too many niggas
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| So I keep my circle small, you need reduction
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| Never too much friends, what is your circumference?
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| I swear to God, times is hard, but they’re getting better
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| Tryna enjoy every moment, but see we so competitive
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| Gabbana made the level, and I never missed a supper
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| But still my hunger’s like a fucking model at a buffet
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| I’m with these broads who in love, they ain’t seen any better
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| But dollar signs never mind, any Cupid’s arrow
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| And if my heart could speak, it would talk to freaks
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| And leave the room when a nigga try to sleep with 'em
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| Getting high, getting by, watching time fly
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| Tell my niggas, I’ma get 'em if they gon' ride
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| Young, wild nigga living the dream
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| Although I’m not who I’m destined to be
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| They keep saying, «Grow up»
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| Lord, my all, what you think of it?
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| Been on this long road accumulating luggage
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| As time proceeds, preoccupied with everything
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| I think it’s 'bout time I sing of nothing
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| Been on this long road accumulating luggage
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| As time proceeds, preoccupied with everything
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| I think it’s 'bout time I sing of nothing
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| I pray my girl don’t turn to my baby mother yet
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| But in fact I do, I need my boo to keep my shit in check
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| And shit get easier when dreams of chasing respect
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| Get realized, and ain’t no team invading your set
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| Getting high, getting by as my mind fly
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| Just bought my homie a Roley simply to pass time
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| And on top it’s lonely so keep your homies right by your side
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| And if life is short then we’ll be the shorts of the Fab Five
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| Severed ties with any nigga who covet mine
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| And all the stunting got me looking ugly in momma’s eyes
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| But I gotta do it, these niggas need provocative music
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| And as a youth momma worked too much to have an influence
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| Rapping and music, a bunch of bitches acting too foolish
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| You gotta be stupid, even Tim Allen had him a tooly
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| Getting high, sitting down, thinking out loud
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| It’s a shame niggas lame, but I’mma hold it down
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| Let my bread roll, never let my friends go
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| That’s why I let these dreads grow, I’ll never fit your fucking crown
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| Getting high, getting by, watching time fly
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| Tell these niggas I’mma get 'em every other time
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| Young, wild niggas sit in your seat
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| Know every weekend every liquor for free
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| From Chilli Bowl to Phillippe, nothing so silly, bitch, I sow what I reap
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| Double M Genius, make these bitches so deep
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| I make these niggas' opinion on younger lyricists consistently weak
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| Put my cardio in the audio and you missin' the beat
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| I’m out, standing in every avenue, I’m good in the streets
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| Outstanding, shitting on niggas, but you sit when you pee
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| Hold up
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| I figure, they don’t care nothing 'bout albums. |
| So why not give 'em an album
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| about— Hey, you better sing that shit, nigga. |
| This how you start the
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| motherfucking show. |
| My fourth joint in a row. |
| The moon’s in the motherfuckin'
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| sky, alright
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| Lord, my all, what you think of it?
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| Been on this long road accumulating luggage
|
| As time proceeds, preoccupied with everything
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| I think it’s 'bout time I sing of nothing
|
| Been on this long road accumulating luggage
|
| As time proceeds, preoccupied with everything
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| I think it’s 'bout time I sing of nothing |