[Intro:]
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"Excuse me, are you Hopsin?"
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"Yeah, why? Who wants to know?"
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"My mommy doesn't like me listening to you, but could you
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Like sing me one of those songs? Like, like one of the cool ones?"
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"Man I got to go man I'm not tryin to sing..."
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"Please?"
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"Alright, alright alright..."
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[Hook:]
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It's the B Bop, my B Bop song
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Do the B Bop, ain't nothing wrong
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Come on!
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Shobedibinbang, shobedibinbang, bidung, oh baby!
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Shobedibinbang, shobedibinbang, bidung, oh baby!
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[Verse 1:]
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Ayo it's time to bring the West back, pass me the exlax
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So I can shit on all these niggas when I wreck tracks
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Your flow ain't that ill, I think you should adjust that
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Homie I don't mean to be rude to you, it's just that
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You ain't the first nigga I seen with an attitude
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Up on the mic tryin' to explain what the gat'll do
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Your skills won't get you that place up in Malibu
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You better off tryin' to go slang with a bag of fruit
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And leave it up to me, I got the bubblies
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I'll do in an hour what would take your ass a couple days
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My contacts make the ladies fall in love with me
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He's the joker of rap is what these motherfuckers say
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I'm slightly psychotic and idiotic but modest whenever spotted
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So logically I'm a profit, face it niggas you just suck
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And as far as your game, it ain't never had legs to step up
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[Hook]
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[Verse 2:]
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Man I'm tired of the ghetto, hope I make it out this place
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Ill niggas running around like an ape up out the cage
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And it ain't about the change, man these things are not the same
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All these killers wanna leave my brain laying on the pave
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And I ain't did nothing, all these little kids cussing
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Learning from their big cousins how to go and get stuck in
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A correctional facility, messing up their liberty
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Acting a fool making unnecessary enemies
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Yes it's very weird to me, I did not get caught in it
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I was into rap, for some reason I love the art of it
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I ain't never drank or smoked because I'm smarter than
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That and I didn't want to grow up to be what my father is
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Gotta make a living, got plans of moving out the hood, not stayin in it
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I hate these cheap apartments, and these vague complaining attendants
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Roaches in the kitchen but I ain't really trippin, I'll be rolling in a minute, singin
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[Hook]
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[Verse 3:]
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On the mic I burn niggas and turn rappers to singers
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I learn that on the day I confirmed I was the slayer
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I serve packs of these haters my words actually rape 'em
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And where's daddy to save him? My urge has to be fatal
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Up in this music shit the sky's the limit for rising in it
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Long as I'm consistent and keep on using my eyes as gimmicks
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I'mma be the talk of the town, walking around
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Like "Yes this rap game, I'm the boss of it now"
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[Hook]
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-----------------
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The B Bop
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Hopsin |