| Uhh… hoo!
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| Uh, yo, Big Will, in the place to be
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| Mic check and uh, mic check and uh
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| Uh, uh, yo
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| Would you love me in the shack in a shanty town?
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| Would you love me if my pants was hand-me-downs?
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| Hah, huh?
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| Yo, yo
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| Often times I hear a phrase when I’m out and about
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| 8 to 80 all walks of life be shouting it out
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| Usually when it’s time for an encore I hear it
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| But when I did something hot it broke in the spirit
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| It’s weird, it’s like a double-edged sword when y’all applaud
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| It’s kinda wild, a peace sign, a smile
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| How do I respond to the phrase «I love you Will!»
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| Kinda heavy when I hear it — be like «Damn f’real?»
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| In a way it make me wanna stay strong and moral
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| But history, say I could be gone tomorrow
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| And though my future look floral, it feel like I’m open
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| For much pain, when people stop shouting my name
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| And doubting my game, liking others better than me
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| Writing, letters to him instead of letters to me
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| A veteran B, I know the game, but do me this here
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| In your heart be clear before you bless my ear, c’mon
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| Could you love me in the shack in a shanty town?
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| Could you love me if my pants was hand-me-down?
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| Could you love me if my wrists ain’t bling?
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| If I wasn’t on TV, and I ain’t sing, huh?
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| Could you love me if my whip wasn’t chrome fitted?
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| Will my name be easier to forget it, huh?
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| Could you love me if my wrists ain’t bling?
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| If I wasn’t on TV, and I ain’t sing, huh?
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| I pray before I sit with a pen and a pad
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| A birth of a thought occurs, and it calls me dad
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| And to the universe an idea, released from me
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| Just a CD? |
| Nah man, a piece of me
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| But you can’t see it that when you be dancing B
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| As I asked you a question that’s how you answer me
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| So when you don’t dance it be like I’m choking from cancer
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| Like I wrote rancid rhymes, I can’t survive, sure
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| I rationalize, like oh I see
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| But if you don’t like my cut it’s like you don’t like me
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| Some stuff works, some works, not so well
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| It’s like you work like hell, still get hurt like hell
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| Yo, it can tear you apart
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| But don’t let your wins go to your head, your losses go to your heart
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| And if we ever get the pleasure to meet
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| Be clever wit and please measure what you yell in the street, c’mon
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| Could you love me in the shack in a shanty town?
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| Could you love me if my pants was hand-me-down?
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| Could you love me if my wrists ain’t bling?
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| If I wasn’t on TV, and I ain’t sing, huh?
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| Could you love me if my whip wasn’t chrome fitted?
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| Will my name be easier to forget it, huh?
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| Could you love me if my wrists ain’t bling?
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| If I wasn’t on TV, and I ain’t sing, huh? |