| My aura takes the form of the aurora borealis
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| Or a floral pattern, more or less a forest to your salad
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| The neural path I’ve traveled has immediate reaction
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| Can’t you see that I am beaming? |
| I’ll be leaving in a second
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| Sipping magic from a chalice, detached from the distractions
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| At last, I can relax, looking past all of the action
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| A fraction or a fragment of me actually is present
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| The rest of me is heavenly, the seventh house’s zenith
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| Yes, the fence intimidates, it’s meant to keep you out (But)
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| Let your senses resonate and leap it in a bound ('Cause)
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| Freedom isn’t found inside a visa or a crown
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| And even the voice of reason couldn’t speak it out loud (But)
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| Mortals are immortal when their soul has been imported
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| To a source that is more sovereign, important to the whole (Whole)
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| This is the warmest moment of a poet turned heroic
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| As he slowly comes to focus, go ahead and watch me glow
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| Rey Mysterio flow, stayin' clear
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| Of makeup-smeared hatin' queers, makin' clear this is spiritual
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| Though a spirit you owe, church final
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| Your funeral in an arena, you searchin' for fire
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| Or titles, or tidal waves
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| Tie the game like a shot from outside when it’s 95 to 98
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| To throw slid into you left-side broke (Niggas!) (Beam!)
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| Boa constrictor, chokin' (Niggas!), the grown man (Beam!)
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| Pawns mean, your controllers get broken (Nigga!) (Beam!)
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| Anarchy in the Ford, you need to focus (Nigga!) (Beam!)
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| Love, I get none, like sayin' no to niggas
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| Hamiltonian’s loneliness, so I hold my (Beams!) (Niggas!)
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| I logged on to see a c-section, a gross display
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| Sleep never, and Rolaids, deep lessons won’t go away
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| I keep pressin' like my phone is afraid
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| To be the star, so I end it and pound it, see what the code can say
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| Calling all the good rappers, had to get my crew together
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| Fire like the fire flower, flyer than the super feather
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| Superman with two propellers, enter that, ninja rap
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| You can call it Super Shredder, boss scene, Ross theme
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| You can call it super better, new to this, Ludacris
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| Foolishness, Lu been doin' this since super letters
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| So I can’t spell and can’t mail it out
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| If you can’t feel, it’s too full, you can’t peel it out
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| Showboatin' at the show, but you can’t sell it out
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| I’m on the sea shepherd deck, helpin' the whales out
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| All my egos in the mirror, checkin' themselves out
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| The speakers on bump, the rappers on acne
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| This track is what would happen if the rastas meet the mathletes
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| Yes, sir, then the Chess Club got dressed up
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| And went and took all the bitches of the athletes
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| Big up to what’s been up, nigga
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| Pin-ups from when we clicked up and posed for these pictures, good
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| And the kids connected up, and they clicked snap
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| Hollerin', «Yeah, we weighed on the iPhone scale app!»
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| Without fail, the best to ever do it just will
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| Haven’t done it all, but we got copy wheelwell, though
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| But it ain’t no sweat, I got a whole outfit
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| And a new fitted cap that I ain’t wore out yet
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| (Check, check, check) And I’m beamin'
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| Yeah, and I seen it, like a twenty-seven inch Zenith
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| Projected widescreen, now they got it 3D
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| Now we NBA’d up from development leagues
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| Ay, yo, they pale in comparison to stories we tell
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| Man, he see me on the hovercraft and he got a sail
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| Bubble-ass Brenda, stacked up in the window
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| Of whatever 'Lac truck pick her up, retail
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| Nigga, what? |
| It just hit me like a Mack truck semi
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| On my last trip to Sydney in the Sheraton lobby
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| Grab my coattails and get a grip (Grab 'em)
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| You want the truth? |
| Well, the truth is
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| This is it, pointin' out the differences
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| This is exquisite shit, riveting, isn’t it?
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| Lizard king loafers on swole when I’m kickin' it
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| Joe, the live nigga, real rig-a-marole
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| You a handshake away, and them fingers is cold
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| Touch art, lush heart, brush my niggas' shoulder off
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| Now that blessed soldier know that protocol, show me y’all’s
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| Maybe not, play me not, say we not remote at all
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| Roger that, scholars back, solid black, go God
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| Gobble Gats, go hard, condom snapped, so raw
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| Pompous asshole, flash flow, turn your soul on
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| So gone, strode strong through your lawn 'til the dawn
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| Tell you mom, name another real as John, kill a song |
| 'Cause when you feel it, and it make yo' ass chill and calm
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| Payin' more than just attention for that glass I’m sippin' on
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| Dog, I would travel half the globe to kiss a broad
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| Kiddin', ma? |
| Scratch backs, bringin' out them kitten paws
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| And pull a bottle out that cabinet while that kitchen’s warm
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| Back to attendin' business, do not lay them digits wrong
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| Dippin' all gangsta, but a renegade, no Crip or John
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| This is Blu, shit is true, pyramid, period
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| I know what you’re thinkin', thinkin' I do not belong
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| Tell me Diggy ain’t beamin', 'course I should be on this song
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| Yeah, I’m a child of God, my reflection is on
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| Yeah, I’m only 15 and, but my sixteens is strong
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| Didn’t want me to shine, now we sharin' the stage
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| Twice as good as you rhyme, only half of your age
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| So the remains, and it ain’t even how
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| That Verizon flow, are you hearin' me now?
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| Word to Wasalu, they was sayin' my future was dark
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| I had the fame, but my name was missin' the art
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| So I’m drawin' the line, and I’m crossin' the Ts
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| And I’m dottin' my Is, barely catchin' my Zs
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| But I’ll be good by the mornin', on my global grind like JoJo
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| They be lookin' at what I’m puttin' on and, so fly, so fresh at the SoHo
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| Most niggas don’t know though, they can catch me on the first flight
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| Been workin' on a new mixtape, I got a call from Lupe
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| But I did it for the love, no check, mate
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| When people said I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, I made 'em believers
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| I come from the school of hard knocks and overachievers
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| From the City of Brotherly Love, they sayin' we need you
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| To be the voice of the people and go against all this evil
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| Some people hate it, but I made it, so I’m never concerned
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| About what they be talkin' about, I’ve lived and I’ve learned
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| With my dream and my drive, I determined my turn
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| In this business, because I’m in control, meetin' adjourned
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| I said, «It's Third Degree, y’all heard of we?
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| I’m Dosage, have you heard of me?»
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| I come from the bottom, so the top where I deserve to be
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| Where people say it doesn’t matter to be much
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| I was on the Steppin' Lasers tour, and man, I shooked it up
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| That was random, but so what? |
| Life is a war, better load up
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| If you against me, come correct, I am the bomb, watch me blow up (Boom!)
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| Right before your eyes, forget about the dividends
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| I just want to say I remember when
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| Well, it’s B to the O, O to the B
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| You know it’s the flow, you know that it’s me, I flow to this beat
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| As easy as goin' to the store and holdin' receipts
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| And foldin' 'em neat, I’m focused as focused can be
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| You know I got phobias, please, approach me with peace
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| Or things could get heated and you’ll get ferociously beat
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| Speakin' of ferociously beat, you know that girl 'Nique?
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| You know she’s a freak, but anyway, back to what I’m supposed to be
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| Sayin' all over this beat, you know that we Gs
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| You see all the crowns, you know that we kings, you notice the rings
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| Everywhere we go, we roll with the team, yeah
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| And you know that we lasers, so you know that we beam
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| It’s the All City varsity, hard-headed squad
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| We played y’all spades, y’all handle y’all cards
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| But we ain’t all odds, we just blaze, man
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| Y’all playin' checkers in this game, this is chess, y’all pawns |