(Verse : Hit-Boy)
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All these niggas really know my at bat average, ridiculous rap patterns
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And fuck what you know, this Youngen got the coldest beats
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All my old hoes laying in the coldest sheets
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Even if they married they still can't get over me
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You 0 for 3, I'm shooting a hundred right from the field now
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I'm just a Fresh Prince, buzzing like Uncle Phil's child
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And I Will style, peace to all my Hilary's
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Stuffin' money in banks, hitting Marilyn's like a Kennedy
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And if you feeling me, just let me know it
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'Cos I just set the stage and get these words off like a poet
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I'm Robert Frost cold on these hoes, I just give them the
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Edgar Allen Poe up
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Sippin something expensive and party 'till they throw up
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Hold up
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All my niggas roll up, until the cops show up
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Her momma say momma's son is a millionaire"
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And just for that, throw your ones up in the air
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This is Freshman Adjustment meets Late Registration
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Connected up with the kings all 'cos of Ricky's relations
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Tell the nigga I've been studying since I started creating
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Now all these niggas is hating, waiting, judging, debating
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Tryin' to charge me with a flagrant, but I will not stop
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They tryin' to Derek Fisher the boy, but I will not flop
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Instead I take it bassline, like Kobe
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And I play my own drums and basslines, you know me, homie
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I'm getting courted by the bosses
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The Ye's, the Hov's, the Puff's, and all them nigga's who's notorious for flossing
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Known to be in places these niggas ain't never heard of
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I fucked women and watched thrones up in the Mercer
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Sign my signature in cursive for them incidentals
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Then we got fucked up off that Ace listening to instrumentals
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I came a long way from that place where niggas can't wait to get you
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And now you copped your favorite mag and I'm in the latest issue
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And all the bitches I never could bag, they steadily claiming they miss you
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And it's a shame when I get the low-fade
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Have all these women feeling like the fourth grade
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Crushin on a Youngen, 'cos they know I'm so paid
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Once I get the digits consider me so laid
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And none of this shit is fiction cos really I don't play
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I changed up my old ways, to kill 'em like OJ
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Remind them of a young Mike, fresh J's and a gold chain
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I stay tailored like politicians, but fuck like I'm out on bond
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Women catching feelings trying to be my first son mom
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But I'm catching millions tying to be the first one on
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And my CD, do you feel me, if you coming, come on
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IE nigga, I'm a IE nigga
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Went from Colton High School to the widescreen nigga
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Couldn't walk in my shoes or jog by me nigga
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Since I play by my rules I acquired these figures
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Now a nigga got enough to supersize, ride with him
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No surprise, all these Benjamins inside my denim
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Couldn't be the nigga sitting on the sideline benching
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Open minds will be the ones to oblige my vision
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Televise my mission, on channel 5, see me in the news
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They monitor my every move, wanna see me lose
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Hear the shit I spit like "what the fuck has gotten into you?"
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I got 'em tuned in like a Jay-Z interview
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-----------------
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Jay-Z Interview
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Hit-Boy |