| I used to have work clothes, looking like I rolled in a dirt road
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| Boss was in jerk-mode now I got fans in the first row
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| Used to blaze two in a prelude
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| With my eyes all glassy like a space-suit
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| Spittin', gettin' pissy like a drug test
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| Sippin' on a blood red Bud Hev'
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| But I’m the best on the beats, it’s destined to be
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| S to the P, O to the S to the E
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| Emceed, got cash for my speech
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| I never went to sleep without grass in my cleats
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| I been earning a permanent place and I’m taking it passionately
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| But my biceps are looking like Avril Lavigne’s
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| I rep for Maine rap, I’m yet to change that
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| Sweat where my taint at, yep, the same cat
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| Jizzing on her vertebrae the way I came back
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| If he ain’t wack, he must have «Spizzy» on the name tag
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| I been spittin' what the citizens livin'
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| And my vision isn’t primitive, is it? |
| It’s like visitin'
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| When I deliver uninhibited rivetin' images
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| Of villagers' children, I got definitive scribblin'
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| Opponents groaning when I’m holding paper
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| I think they’re unfamiliar with my nomenclature
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| All these hating thug rappers give me love after
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| And my raps attract biters like a bug zapper
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| [Hook: Spose &
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| Chris Webby
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| They told me in your dreams
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| Would I ever get to do this rap shit
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| Kept my head up and looked right past it
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| And I don’t know about you
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| But I know I wanna do what I love
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| And I’ma do it till the day that I’m done
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| They told me in your dreams
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| Would I ever get to live this life
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| So I’m just making sure I’m living it right
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| And I don’t know about you
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| But I’ma keep my trees rolled up
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| At the top, looking down like, «What!?»
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| You can find me posted up as a trace, and I stay in the cut
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| Fat dutch with my hand on my nuts
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| Wear a watch just ‘cause, I don’t look at it much
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| Shit, I don’t «slap a the bass,» yo, I’m never in a rush — get it?
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| Just a stoner, no college diploma
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| But got a jar that’s full of sour with a godly aroma
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| Got a load of bullshit I gotta deal with on the daily
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| Success is a motherfuckin' double edged blade, B
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| That’s how it is, just a matter of fact
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| I’m a humble dude, yo, I just happen to rap
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| And I do it to the fullest, what’s the matter with that?
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| Shit, I put the work in, let me gather my stacks
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| Shouts to Maine, OOB
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| From the 207 to the 203
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| Doing me, kicks clean when I step up in the scene
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| Fucking with me? |
| In your dreams! |
| Bitch, Webby!
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| [Hook: Spose &
|
| Chris Webby
|
| They told me in your dreams
|
| Would I ever get to do this rap shit
|
| Kept my head up and looked right past it
|
| And I don’t know about you
|
| But I know I wanna do what I love
|
| And I’ma do it till the day that I’m done
|
| They told me in your dreams
|
| Would I ever get to live this life
|
| So I’m just making sure I’m living it right
|
| And I don’t know about you
|
| But I’ma keep my trees rolled up
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| At the top, looking down like, «What!?»
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| I met some snakes in the apple like the first couple
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| Burned in that kerfuffle, learned the ropes and turnbuckles
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| So not to burst bubbles, but you must be wylin'
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| If you think I will be silent like the word «subtle»
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| I risked $ 100,000 on Spose, bros
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| If you’re not «all in» on you, you oughta fold
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| Hunkered in my bunker tryna get it
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| Until I’m light-headed as spelunkers in a crevice
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| I got crowds yelling back like we’re bickering
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| Because I spit the shit that’s sicker than a chick who’s sniffling
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| The formula’s a simple thing, you get the tickets, sit, and then you sip a drink
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| I spit the hits that get you tickled pink around the nipple ring
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| Let me show you where Maine is
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| I’m from the pines, got lines like a flame-broiled angus
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| I slang language, been sellin' it from the genesis
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| Be ready ‘cause I’m heavy as Webby in the Connecticut
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| Scene, but by L.L. Bean, they said IN YOUR DREAMS
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| [Hook: Spose &
|
| Chris Webby
|
| Would I ever get to do this rap shit
|
| Kept my head up and looked right past it
|
| And I don’t know about you
|
| But I know I wanna do what I love
|
| And I’ma do it till the day that I’m done
|
| They told me in your dreams
|
| Would I ever get to live this life
|
| So I’m just making sure I’m living it right
|
| And I don’t know about you
|
| But I’ma keep my trees rolled up
|
| At the top, looking down like, «What!?» |