| No filter and no make-up, right? |
| That’s the way you wake up, right?
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| You the selfie-taking type, please tell me why
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| I see you photoshop your zits out, but you didn’t crop your tits out
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| And you duck-face your lips out, just thinking that you’re fly
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| You sure you got the right intentions? |
| Might I suggest an intervention?
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| Keep track of your life instead of keeping track of likes and mentions
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| And I’d like to mention that I know you like attention
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| And this phone’s a great invention for this type of interaction
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| Spending hours on a caption while the rest of your life is passing
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| It’s really not attractive when your own picture’s your passion
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| Think about it, damn it, 'fore you go and Instagram it
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| There are more pictures of you online than people on the planet
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| I don’t understand it — Same face, same pose, different clothes
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| Posted every twenty minutes, everybody got their limits
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| Everybody got the message, you think you are quite impressive
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| And we know you thinking that, that, that, that…
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| There will never be, another one
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| Who will?
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| You be switching up your character as if you Johnny Depp
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| First you gangster on the set, then you a skater on the deck
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| Then you Wu-Tang for two weeks, with new frames and new sneaks
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| Then you change to 2 Chainz when you aim for new geeks
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| Now you aim and you chief, and you bang on loose-leaf
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| And you claim that unique, but you ain’t no Kool Keith
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| I laugh at you bitchin' and watching your crew switchin'
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| From Drake and that smooth fission to quote-unquote cooking crack in the kitchen
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| You stoop pigeon without any cool vision
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| You gotta be bullshittin', you ain’t a true visionary — You a fool spittin'
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| Whatever you see and reciting whatever you hear
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| One thing is clear, you switch your shit up every year
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| Be yourself — You ain’t blood or crip, though
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| You ain’t extra hip, though
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| You ain’t Skrillex or Diplo
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| But we know…
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| I’m texting and driving, that shit’s an awful habit
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| I put my hand up on the wheel, that shit is automatic
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| I put my foot up on the gas, and not a second pass
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| Before I’m checking if I missed anything since I checked it last
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| I should be checking out the cars in my lane
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| Instead I’m checking out the shit that keeps our battery drained
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| I’m peeping what she wrote, it’s a motivational quote
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| I’m thinking, «Come up with your own shit if you’re gonna post»
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| Then I scroll over to Twitter, where I peep a bullshitter
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| Posting dates about his mixtape, but we both know he’s a quitter
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| And I don’t even consider that I’m going 80 M.P.H
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| Cause I’m looking at my phone and laughing at these trendy fakes
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| These Facebook rappers, they would never get it
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| They are so pathetic, I don’t even know what…
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| A landmark verdict in Massachusetts today convicted a driver of vehicular
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| homicide…
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| And his crime was blamed on texting while driving… |