| How we go from «Who's that?» |
| to «That's who!»?
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| Gave the game life when it had less sole than flat shoes
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| Heart of a king, blood of a slave, a hundred chains
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| Sixteen bars that prison guards could not contain
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| We put on ice as soon as we get hot
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| And carry heavy metal just in case we slip, not
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| These kids rock like we Kid Rocks of hip hop
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| And if you hope that it stops then kick rocks in flip flops
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| CD’s fill bins like Regis, but we still treated like animals
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| Right? |
| No PETA
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| Maybe 'cuz we shine like a Las Vegas?
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| Cuz we all pack heaters. |
| They in drive, two seaters
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| Hittin' one city but I rent two cars
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| Damn Big, did we take it too far?
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| This is Ozymandius' chain going too hard
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| We are slaves to our vain man, look at the scars
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| But I got…
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| Chains, whips, bars, see?
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| So tell me why I feel so free
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| So tell me why I feel so free
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| So tell me why I feel so free
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| It’s hard to quit the bull, they be on some Jordan shit
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| Cuz when really do it, you don’t choose it, you were born to do
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| So I choose for my fam' and you, Florida shit
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| And I’mma kill a nigga on some Dexter Morgan shit
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| I promise momma that college wasn’t just for the kid
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| Cuz I master the trophies you don’t box up in storages
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| Nobody ever sang my praises, amazing
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| Now I’m hopping up on stages where they all singing my choruses
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| Chains, bars and whips. |
| Y’all ball cuz no umpire would ever call THEM hits
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| That y’all spit out y’all lips
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| I spit out my soul, you just spit out your spit
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| I’m going for the globe at the end of my wrist
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| North Pole on my twelve, South Pole on my six
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| Vizzy on tock, bad bitch on tick and it just won’t stop
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| If you don’t know that boy sick cuz he’s got
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| While everybody struggles to be so free
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| I can’t take these chains off me
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| I can’t take these chains off me
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| I can’t take these chains off me |