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Do you ever sing a little song like this when you get up in the morning? |
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[Singing] |
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Dear diary, what a day its been |
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Dear diary, its been just like a dream |
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[Masta Ace] |
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Aiyyo Ace, don't tell me your thinkin about a return |
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I'm kinda concerned, when will you old cats ever learn? |
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It's time to hang it up when you stand on your last leg |
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When you don't right on the reg' and your future is past dead |
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I'mma tell you cause none of these cats will |
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You can't still try and rely on your rap skill |
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You ain't got nothin behind you and believe me |
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Not a label out that gonna find you and wanna sign you |
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Write your rhymes in the shower, you washed up |
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If there was a law against wack shit, you'd be locked up |
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These cats in the game pretend that they your friend |
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But as soon as you walk away, they talkin about you again |
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Half of your old group don't like you and wanna fight you |
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And even made songs about you to try to spite you |
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Big Beat dropped you and said that you can't sell |
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And they ain't had a hit since before Pac was in jail |
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It's like the shit is up under your nose and you can't smell |
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Hell, you probably older than Blu Cantrell |
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You can't tell? It's over, captial O-V-E-R |
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And that's just in case you can't spell, c'mon |
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[Chorus] |
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Dear diary, what a day its been |
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Dear diary, its been just like a dream |
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Woke up too late, wasn't where I should've been |
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For goodness sake, what's happening to me? |
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[Masta Ace] |
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Yeah I heard all of your prayers but I doubt that God got 'em |
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So break out the suits and ties, and the hard bottoms |
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And get yourself a job with a desk in a nice office |
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And learn to enjoy all of the garbage that life offers |
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And don't ever again show your face on the stage |
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Or write the name Masta Ace on the page, kid ya done |
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Whoever let you back in the door should get a smack in the jaw |
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'cause you sure shouldn't be rappin no more |
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You already proved that at the Lyricist Lounge affair |
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Tryin to battle with rhymes you wrote on the way there |
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Maybe next time you'll know not to play fair |
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Say your best written shit and school 'em like daycare |
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But through the sad mess and all of the bad press |
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I can't recall a time in the past when you had less |
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Ain't nobody out there who gon' keep it realer than me |
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We one in the same sincerly, your diary |
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[Chorus x2] |