| Let me freak the funk
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| Obsolete is the punk that talk more junk than Sanford sells
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| I jet propel at a rate that complice their mental state
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| As I invade their masquerade
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| They couldn’t fade with a clipper blade
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| 10 years in the trade is not enough, you can’t cut it
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| I let you take a swing, and you bunted
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| For an easy out, I leave mc’s with doubt
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| Of exceeding, my name is Bottie Brown and I’m proceeding, leading
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| They try to follow but they’re shallow and hollow
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| I can see right through them like an empty 40 bottle, of O. E
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| They have no key, or no clue
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| To the game at all, now they washed up
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| Hung out to dry
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| Standing looking stupid, wondering why
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| (why man?)
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| It was the fame, that they tried to get
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| Now they walking around talking about represent
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| And keep it real, but I got to appeal
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| Cause they existing in a fantasy when holding the steel
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| Rock a bye baby
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| Listen to my heart pumping to a fine ravine
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| Of all things it’s a vain of a shrine
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| All missions impossible are possible, cause I’m
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| Heading for a new sector 365 days from now, I’ll
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| Wipe the sweat from my brow
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| And each and every true will stick, or fall from the sky of my cloud nine
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| From homies all the way to chics, no matter how fine
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| Controlling is a swollen way to wreck a proud mind
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| You hold it in your hands and watch a man start crying
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| Tear after tear in the puppet man’s hands
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| Every time you take a stance you do the puppet man’s dance
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| And the worlds at a stand-still
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| Deep in broken mansville, trapped in the moat with an anvil, still
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| Killing yourself, and dogging ya health
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| You ain’t amphibious, so grab a hold of yourself
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| Shit is-shit is ill, my flow still will spill
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| Toxic slick to shock you sick like electrocute
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| When I execute, acutely over the rhythm
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| On those that pollute, extra dosages is what I gotta give em
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| Got em mad and trembling
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| Cause I been up in my lad assembling
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| Missiles, to bomb the enemy
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| Because they envy me, and the making of my mad currency
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| Currently I think we’re in a state of an emergency
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| Cause niggas done sold their souls, and now their souls is hollow
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| And I think they can’t follow
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| They can’t swallow, the truth because it hurts
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| This is how I put it down, this is my earth, my turf
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| The worth of my birth is a billion, and you know what time it is
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| I’m going to make a million |