| I woke up, I was feeling like Babe Ruth
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| Babes in the bed, empty bottles of Grey Goose
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| The weed from the dread and the yada from Jesus
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| GOD MC in the booth, I’m like, «Hey, Zeus!»
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| Cherry chariot, hood-schooled with the beige roof
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| Niggas try to cherish it, get cuffed when I Flav through
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| Down on her knees and she tells me it’s a great view
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| Hums on a G, like a motherfucking H-2
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| After that she runs from me, yelling out: «I hate you!»
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| Then she apologize, baby, I don’t blame you
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| I know you’re bi-polar, maybe I’m the same too
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| We’re the same two, baby, I’m insane too
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| Dreaming of a nova ‘72, painted rain blue
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| Nirvana, my Chevy’s got they brains blew
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| Money might change you, but none’ll make you change too
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| I’m still the shit, somebody must have changed you
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| And my bitches I swap ‘em out
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| They act like they walkin' out, I help ‘em then I lock ‘em out
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| I got cottonmouth, so I ain’t trying to talk it out
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| If I was a teen heartthrob, then they’d be dropping out
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| Black Tyler Durden, swervin' off bourbon
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| Mama’s little burden, won’t let you get a word in
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| Bitches they get lured in and kicked to the curb
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| Kittens get kicked when I tell them its curtains
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| Palace in Persia, whole floor full of virgins
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| I should get a chain, that says: «Do Not Disturb»
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| I’m prolly getting brain inn a blacked-out Suburban
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| Superb, in an all-black suburb, with her hand full of Jergens
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| SB Nikes, that’s right, Pee-Wee Herman’s
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| Bald Pee-Wee Kirkland As high as Sam Perkins
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| Wrap like turbans No words of encouragement
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| Let them fuckers burn, hope they learn I encourage it
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| I really need a line and my mouth some detergent
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| I hope your snap-back gets smacked by some bird shit
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| We ain’t worth shit, but we stuntin' like we perfect
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| (Chuckles)
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| Nacho |