| Formula, like I’m Mr. Krabs
|
| I change and transform it up, you stuck in the past
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| I wear Supreme goggles to my science lab (I really do)
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| Yeah, it hurts to write this song, 'cause I don’t like to brag (Nah)
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| And now I’ve tied myself up, like a Nike Mag'
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| People love to criticize me for the life I’ve had (True)
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| They make it 'bout white and black, like I’m Michael Jack' (Aye)
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| I make these haters look confused, like it’s Dora asking where Swipper at (Wow,
|
| aye), aye, aye, aye
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| Yeah, I’m supreme, 'cause I got it on me, now they copy that, like a
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| walkie-talkie
|
| And I’m feelin' like they really want to stop me, tryna fold my paper,
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| like it’s origami
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| Wanna justify the hate, they call me cocky, and I am, 'cause your girl call me,
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| 'Papi'
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| Tryna take their shot like it’s the paparazzi, I’m a fax machine up in a lot of
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| copies
|
| Aye, still saying, «Who woulda thought?», like, who would of guessed it, huh?
|
| Haven’t lifted weights in two years, but somehow, I’m always flexing, yeah
|
| If you really want to find the answer to your question, here is where you
|
| should look:
|
| Want the secret to the sauce, motherfucker? |
| Better go and find a cookbook
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| Yeah
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| When I walk up to the scene, I hear an orchestra
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| Now everybody telling me I don’t perform enough (I don’t perform enough)
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| My math teacher told me that I’d never be shit (Nah)
|
| And now, I’m searched more than the quadratic formula (Aye)
|
| Aye, I got the formula, (Yeah) I got the formula (Aye)
|
| You got the sauce, but God damn, I got the formula (I got the formula), aye
|
| People always askin', «Ben, why you record so much?» |
| («Why you record so much?»)
|
| I got to fry up all these rappers quick, like, order up (*call bell ringing*) |